It's Hard to Dance With A Devil on Your Back
by ensxbroadway
Summary: Anna. Anna who? Who is this strange girl and why does she keep her identity to herself? What is she hiding? I do hope she doesn't come back. She seems dull. Maybe a little clever, but just a little. Not enough to intrigue me. SH
1. Chapter 1

Brown coat, black hair, black eyes. She walked along the street. Her large Bloodhound trotted obediently beside her; never stopping to even sniff a bit of gum stuck to the street.  
She had a look about her that both drew people in and pushed them away. She held her head high. Her collar was pulled up. One hand was shoved in her pocket, the other trailing a suite case. She had been traveling. And, judging by the size of her suite case, she had either been gone a long while, or planned to stay in London for at the least, a month.  
She hailed a taxi, as it had started raining, which took her to a particular street, with particular inhabitants that, until only moments before, she had no intentions of meeting with. In fact, she had no idea they existed.  
The cab pulled up against the curb and she and her dog jumped out into the rain. They rushed towards the door, and rang the bell.  
An old lady answered the door.  
"Oh hello dear, are you a client?" She asked sweetly.  
"No I-"  
"Oh dear we've got to get you out of the rain. You can bring your dog too just as long as it stays in the hall." The old lady ushered them in.  
"Come one Lucy girl," the girl said to her dog. The Bloodhound followed her in. She ordered her dog to stay before following the old lady, who had asked to be addressed as Mrs. Hudson, up stairs.  
"Boys!" She called into the seemingly empty flat.  
"Take a seat dear I expect they'll be out in a moment."  
The girl sat herself in a chair and waited uncomfortably to be joined in the room. Just a few moments later a young, strong young man walked out. He smiled at her and stuck out his hand.  
"Doctor John Watson," he introduced himself. She stood and took his hand.  
"Anna," she said smiling.  
"Last name?" A deep voice asked from behind the doctor. Anna smiled politely.  
"It's not important."  
The second man, a dark, tall man, raised one eyebrow, but didn't question any further.  
"Sherlock Holmes," he said not bothering to shake her hand and he planted himself across from her.  
"Please, sit."  
She sat. John sat at a table with his computer.  
"You're American," Sherlock said. Anna smiled.  
"Very good Mr. Holmes, but from what I've heard I had hoped you could go a bit deeper than that," she grinned at him and tilted her head. Sherlock looked at her stunned.  
"What could you have heard about me? You've only been in the country for a least an hour. You haven't made it to your hotel yet obviously because you still have your case."  
"Good," she said, urging him to go on.  
"You're an artist. You've got a bit of blue paint on your neck and wrist. Your right hand also has pencil smudges down the side which shows you're left handed. Now, why are you here? Not business. You're not dressed for it and you wouldn't have bothered stopping by if you were. Holiday? Mm not likely. Usually girls your age travel on holiday in groups."  
"And what can you deduct about my age Mr. Holmes?" She questioned.  
"Sherlock, please. I'd say mid to late twenties."  
"Twenty seven. Very good, I'm impressed." She smiled.  
"I wouldn't say that quite yet," John commented from behind his computer screen. Anna place her chin in her hands, waiting for more, her eyes fixed intently on Sherlock's.  
"You're here because of family." He said. She pulled back. A look of discomfort on her face.  
"How did you know?"  
"I didn't. Process of elimination. You're not here for travel or business so the next most common reason would be family. Now, you are obviously trying to keep your family a secret from me, but why? Do I know them?"  
"No I don't believe you've met." Anna said quickly. "But if you don't mind, I'd like to keep my surname to myself."  
"Very well. Now, why are you here?"  
"I simply wanted to meet you. See if you were as incredible as they say." She smiled. "It was nice meeting you Sherlock, and you as well Doctor" she nodded towards John and he smiled at her.  
"I think I may be in touch. I'm not in need of her help at the moment but something tells me soon I will be."  
Anna took her suite case by the handle and was about to leave. Suddenly, the deep sounds of a dog barking echoed throughout the flat.  
"What is that?" John jumped at the sound of the dog.  
"My dog." Anna said with a look of terror on her face.  
"In the flat?" John asked looking a little shocked.  
"Why are you frightened? Surly you'd be used to the sound of your own dog barking." Sherlock pried.  
"You see Sherlock, I have her trained so well, that there's only one thing she'll bark at." Anna moved towards the window and peered our. Her voice was shaky.  
"And what's that?" John asked.  
"He's found me." Anna whispered under her breath. She pulled away from the window quickly and ordered her dog to "hush".  
"Well boys," she said grabbing her suite case. "It appears I'll be needing you sooner than I thought. I'll be back by the end of the week. Have a nice day," she smiled and winked before exiting the flat and rushing her dog secretively along the street. Sherlock moved to the window and watched her disappear.  
"What was that about?" John asked moving beside Sherlock.  
"No idea, but I doubt that will be the last we'll see of this mysterious Anna."


	2. Chapter 2

Anna showed up a few days later. Mrs. Hudson answered the door again. This time, she did not have her dog with her. She was bundled up tightly against the cold. Mrs. Hudson ushered her in. There was shouting upstairs. It sounded as if Sherlock and John were having a row. Something about the solar system, Anna thought. She remembered reading on John's blog that Sherlock didn't know the Earth went around the sun.

John burst through the flat door and rushed down the stairs before disappearing around the corner. Mrs. Hudson chuckled a bit and led Anna up the stairs.

"Have you two had a bit of a domestic?" She asked. Anna stifled a laugh. Sherlock lay on the couch pouting. He jumped up, walked over the coffee table and looked out the window. Anna thought him a strange man, but she wanted to get inside his head so badly. She wanted to know what made him tick. He hadn't even noticed the stranger in his house. He just gazed out the window, complaining about the peace. Anna chuckled.

"Oh don't worry that will be fixed soon," she muttered almost darkly. Sherlock turned and studied her.

"Who /are/ you?" He asked, obviously frustrated she wouldn't tell him.

"I'm nobody."

"What do you mean it will all be fixed soon? What will be fixed?"

"The peace. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. And trust me when I saw you will need my help."

"I don't need anyone's help."

"Sherlock listen to me." Anna got very stern. Her playful eyes turned dark. "Things are going to happen. Terrible things. I have no doubt you can solve it all yourself, but it will be much faster if I help you," she had walked closer towards him as she talked and was now standing just under his nose. He looked down at her. She seemed very determined to weasel her way into his work, and he was determined to keep her out. He didn't like her. She made him feel.../strange/. He couldn't think straight was she was around. It was as if something about her blocked part of his mind, and he couldn't figure out why.

"What kinds of things?" He questioned. And just at that moment, a huge explosion broke through the windows and threw the two of them off their feet.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER!

I do not own the fantastic characters or general plot line of the BBC show Sherlock! No copy right intended

Chapter 3

John rushed into the room calling for Sherlock.  
"Are you ok?" He asked frantically after finding him in the flat plucking at his violin. Anna and Mycroft sat across from him. They all turned to John.  
"Me? Ya I'm fine. Gas leak apparently." Sherlock explained, giving Anna a side look. She squirmed. Sherlock turned over to Mycroft.  
"I can't."  
"Can't?"  
"I don't have the time," Sherlock explained.  
"This is of National importance." Mycroft groaned.  
"How's the diet?" Sherlock said. Anna smirked.  
"Fine." Mycroft said very unamused. "Perhaps you can get through to him John."  
"If you're so keen why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock muttered.  
"I can't leave the office with the Korean elections.." He stopped himself and the three looked at him suspiciously. "Well you don't need to know about that do you?" Mycroft covered up. "Besides, this case requires...legwork."  
"How's Sara John?" Sherlock said turning to his flat mate. "How was the lilo?"  
"It was the sofa," Anna and Mycroft said in unison.  
"Oh yes of course," Sherlock muttered.  
"How- nevermind." John had long since stopped trying to figure out how Sherlock could deduce all the little things no one else noticed.  
The men continued arguing and Anna found herself just staring blankly at the yellow smiley face on the wall. It wasn't until after Mycroft left that John even noticed Anna's presence.  
"What is she doing here?" John asked Sherlock. There was still bitterness in his voice but Anna didn't take offense. She just continued to stare, lost in thought.  
"She wants to help with the case." Sherlock said.  
"What case? The only one you've been offered you just turned down!"  
"Try telling her that."  
John gave Anna an confused look. She simply smiled at him and then turned back to the wall.  
A cell phone rang and Sherlock answered it.  
"Sherlock Holmes." There was a pause. "Of course, how could I refuse?" He jumped up out of the chair. "Lestrade. We've been summoned." He told John. Anna stood too.  
"I'm coming." She said.  
"No. Your not." Sherlock ordered.  
"I promised you a case, and here it is. I'm coming."  
Sherlock sighed, and left the flat with John and Anna following in his wake.  
The three got in a cab and headed towards Scotland Yard. They met up with Lestrade who began explaining the case. No one questioned Anna's being there.  
Lestrade explained that the explosion wasn't a gas leak. There was a strong box found in the wreckage. Inside was an envelope addressed to Sherlock. He was reassured it wasn't a trap before he opened it. Inside was a phone. A pink phone.  
"It's the phone," John said.  
"From a study in pink?" Lestrade asked.  
"You read his blog?" Sherlock groaned.  
"Well ya we all do. Do you really not know the earth goes around the sun?" Lestrade said. Sally scoffed from somewhere behind them.  
"Boys," Anna said warningly, suppressing a smile.  
Sherlock sighed. "It's not the same phone. This ones new. Someone's gone through a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone. Which means," he turned to John, "your blog has a far wider readership." Sherlock clicked on the phone and a robotic voice announced "you have one new message." Five beeps followed the recording on the phone.  
"Is that it?" John asked, frowning in confusion. Anna didn't say anything. She just tilted her head a little, waiting for Sherlock's reaction.  
"No, that's not it."  
The phone chimed as a picture message came through. All thee of them leaned over to see the picture.  
"What the hell are we supposed to make of that?" Lestrade asked. "An estate agents photo and The bloddy Greenwich pips,"  
It was a room. An old musty room. The walls were cracked and the paper was peeling.  
"It's a warning," Sherlock muttered.  
"A warning?" John repeated. Anna smiled. She could just see the gears ticking away in Sherlock's mind. She knew exactly what was happening. His thoughts were moving at a thousand miles an hour. Each idea played out in front of him until the threw it away. She knew, because her mind did the same thing.  
"Some secret societies would send dried melon seeds. Orange pips things like that." He began to explain. "Five pips. They're warning us its going to happen again." He looked back at the picture. "I've seen this place before," he muttered as he started to walk away.  
"Hang one," Lestrade followed. "What's going to happen again?"  
"Boom!" Sherlock walked down the hall of Scotland Yard with John and Anna following. Anna was beaming like a proud parent.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four  
They got a cab back to 221B. Lestrade was close behind. Sherlock led them into the building and stopped at a door.  
"Mrs. Hudson!" He called.  
The landlady came and found them. Sherlock explained what he was looking for and she led them down to the basement and handed Sherlock a key ring. Sherlock proceeded to open the door to the flat in the basement.  
"You had a look at it before, when you came to see about your flat," she told him.  
"The doors been opened recently," he said.  
"No, it can't be. That's the only key,"  
The door opened.  
"I can't get anyone interested in this flat. It's the dampness I expect but that's the curse of basements," Mrs. Hudson began rattling off. No one payed her any mind, but she kept talking.  
"I had a place once when I was first married,"  
The four of them began to enter the room.  
"Black mold all up the walls."  
They shut the door. Slowly, they entered the room where the photo graph was taken. There was only one difference.  
"Shoes," John observed. A pair of shoes sat in the middle of the floor. Sherlock began to walk towards the shoes but John stopped him.  
"Careful, he's a bomber, remember."  
Sherlock crouched down and leaned as close to the pair of shoes as he dared. A cell phone rang, breaking the silence, and made the four of them jump. Anna seemed especially uncomfortable. She just starred at the shoes, biting her nails.  
Sherlock jumped up and pulled the pink phone from his coat pocket. He put the phone on speaker.  
"Hello?" He said. The sound of a women crying came from the other end. Anna bit her lip.  
"H-h-hello...sexy," the women said shakily. John looked over at Anna in confusion. She kept her face blank.  
"Who is this?" Sherlock asked, equally confused.  
"I've sent you a little puzzle," the women said. "Just to say hi,"  
"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"  
"I'm not crying, I'm typing. And this stupid bitch is reading it out." The women continued sobbing.  
"The curtain rises." Sherlock muttered.  
"What?" John asked.  
"Nothing," Sherlock said louder.  
"No what did you mean?"  
"I've been expecting this for some time," Sherlock glanced suspiciously at Anna. She did her best to keep her poker face.  
"12 hours to solve my puzzle Sherlock," the women continued speaking, "or I'm going to be so naughty." The line went dead. The group stared at the shoes. Two were confused, one's head was racing with ideas, and one knew /exactly/ what was going on.  
Sherlock decided the best idea was to take the shoes to St. Bart's and look for evidence. John and Anna followed. Lestrade went back to Scotland Yard, but said he'd be available if they needed him.  
At the hospital, Anna sat atop a counter in the lab while John stood off to the side. Both keeping very quiet while they watched Sherlock work.  
"So, who do you suppose it was?" John asked after an hour of silence.  
"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't look up.  
"The women on the phone, the crying women?"  
"Oh she doesn't matter, she's just a hostage. No lead there."  
"For God's sake I wasn't thinking about leads,"  
"You're not going to be much use to her."  
"Are they trying to trace the call?" Anna could tell the whole thing was upsetting John. Of course it was, it was an upsetting matter. But Sherlock was keeping his cool very nicely.  
"The bombers too smart for that. Pass me my phone."  
"Where is it?"  
"Jacket."  
Anna did her best not to laugh as she watched John cross the room to retrieve Sherlock's phone from his jacket pocket.  
"Text, from your brother," John said looking at the phone.  
"Delete it."  
"Delete it?"  
"The plans are out of the country now, nothing we can do about it."  
Anna figured that was what they were arguing about back at the flat when she had zoned off. She saw no need in worrying about it now either, so sheet herself slip into her thoughts. Off in the distance, she heard the computer beep. Then the door opened and she heard a women's voice ask,  
"Any luck?"  
"Oh yes," Sherlock responded. But then.../then/.  
"Oh, sorry, I didn't..." /That/ voice.  
"Jim! Hi," the women said. "Come in, come in,"  
There was a loud crash behind them. They turned to see Anna struggling to pick herself up. She had fallen off the counter and had taken a few pieces of equipment with her.  
"S-sorry," she stammered as she picked up the Petri dishes. "I must have blacked out." She took a deep breath and turned to face the others.  
"Who's this?" She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.  
"This is Molly," John said gesturing to the women. "And this-" he broke off, waiting for an explanation of the man who had just entered the room.  
"Jim," Molly said. "Jim works in IT upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," she laughed a little. "Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes," Molly said motioning to Sherlock.  
"Ah, so you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me so much about you," Jim said smiling.  
"This is um...um," Molly said trying to remember John's name.  
"John Watson" he said, slightly annoyed. Molly turned to Anna.  
"I don't believe I caught your name," she said.  
"Anna. Just Anna." Jim raised an eyebrow and half smiled at her. She quickly looked away.  
"Are you on one of your cases?" Jim asked Sherlock. He turned to look at Jim.  
"Gay," he said simply before turning back to his investigation.  
"Sorry, what?" Molly said unamused.  
"Nothing, um," Sherlock quickly corrected himself.  
"Hey."  
Anna made a noise in the back of her throat that sounded a lot like the start of a laugh but she covered it up with a cough.  
"Hi," Jim said to Sherlock. He went to put his hand in the counter but knocked over a few Petri dishes.  
"Sorry, sorry," he laughed at himself. John raised a hand to his head.  
"Well, I'd better be off," Jim said after replacing the dishes. "I'll see you at the Fox, about 6:00-ish?" He said to Molly.  
"Yeah," she smiled. Jim moved over to Molly and rubbed her back a bit.  
"Bye," he said to Sherlock. "It was nice to meet you."  
Sherlock didn't respond. There was a bit of awkward silence before John said,  
"You too."  
Jim smiled a little at John, then his eyes fell on Anna. The two's friendly, happy eyes turned dark and cold as they locked gazes. But only for a moment. Jim broke the eye context as be turned to leave the room.  
"What do you mean 'gay'?" Molly asked once Jim was gone. "We're together."  
"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you."  
"Two and a half," she didn't even try and deny it. Denial was no use with Sherlock Holmes.  
"Well, three." Sherlock argued.  
"Sherlock," John said warningly.  
"He's not gay," Molly raised her voice a little. "Why do you have to spoil...he's not!"  
Sherlock scoffed. "With that level of personal grooming?"  
"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair?" John said coming to Molly's defense. "I put product in my hair."  
"You wash your hair there's a difference. No no," Sherlock said as he began deducing. "Tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired, clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear."  
"His underwear?" Molly asked confused.  
"Visible above the waistline. Very visible. Very particular brand. Plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."  
Molly, feeling humiliated, ran out of the room. Sherlock looked a bit confused.  
"Charming, well done." John said sarcastically.  
"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?"  
"Kinder? No, no. Sherlock, that wasn't kind."  
"You're wrong anyways," Anna piped up, speaking for the first time since Jim's appearance. She had recovered slightly but was still a little shaky. Sherlock turned to question her. "He's not gay." She said. "A bloody good actor, yes, but not gay."  
"And how do you know?" Sherlock pried.  
"I um...I just, do. Trust me."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five  
After a few more minutes in the lab, everything began to click for Sherlock. He had John deduce the shoes, just to see how strong his skills were. The tests he ran in the mud from the shoes had come up. Sherlock started thinking out loud when realization hit.  
"Carl Powers," he muttered. Anna's lips tugged into a small smile.  
/"He's got it,"/ she thought. /"Come on Sherlock."/  
They got a cab and Sherlock began explaining everything. John didn't remember the little boy who drowned twenty years ago, but Anna did. She had watched the whole thing happen. She had only been six or seven years. It scarred her.  
Back at the flat, Sherlock sat at his desk going through old newspapers. Anna sat close by watching. He had told her to go home, but she refused. He intrigued her, and she felt her presence was almost protecting him. John came in talking about the case Mycroft had confronted them about earlier. Something about 'national importance'. Sherlock, who didn't want to be bothered, sent John off to go deal with it. While John was gone, Sherlock moved his study to the kitchen. He sat bent over a microscope. Anna was helping Mrs. Hudson around the flat. It was a good hour or so before Sherlock muttered,  
"Poison."  
"What are you going on about?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock slammed his hands on the table and said "Clostridium botulinum. It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet."  
"So that's what he used," Anna whispered to herself. "Wonder where he got that from."  
"What?" John asked hearing Anna's voice.  
"Nothing," she said quickly. John turned back to Sherlock.  
"Are you saying he was murdered?"  
"Remember the shoelaces? The boy suffered from eczema. It would be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyzes the muscles and he drowns."  
"How come the autopsy didn't pick that up?" John asked.  
"It's virtually undetectable and nobody would have been looking for it," Sherlock explained. He began typing, putting the newfound information on his website. Seconds later, the cell phone rang. Sherlock jumped to answer it. It was the crying women again.  
"Well done you," she said. "Come and get me."  
"Where are you? Tell us where you are!" Sherlock ordered her. Not five minutes later, a police team was sent out to rescue the poor women.  
The next morning the trio, or rather the pair and the unwanted guest, went to Scotland Yard to discuss the case with Lestrade. While they were there, the phone chirped again. The message was four short beeps, and the picture was the front of a car. Lestrade started making calls to see if the car had been reported when one of the agents walked in holding a phone.  
"Freak," she said. Sherlock turned. "It's for you." Anna frowned and was going to call this women out for calling Sherlock 'freak', but decided it best not to draw attention to herself. The last thing she needed was to be mistook for Sherlock's girlfriend or something.  
Sherlock walked out of the office and took the phone. Anna and John stayed inside, watching him through the window. Noticing Sherlock's slightly distressed look about the call, John got up to go stand by him. Anna followed. Just as Sherlock's ca ended, Lestrade ran out to inform them he's found the car. Anna sighed. She didn't really want to do this anymore, but she didn't have much of a choice.


	6. Chapter 6

**I just want to thank everyone who's been following this story. You guys are the reason I keep writing:) So here's a super long chapter for you! Disclaimer: I do not own anything (except Anna) Sherlock belongs to the horribly wonderful Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and BBC. What would we do without them? **

Chapter 6  
They solved three other cases like this; some hostages strapped to explosives while they ran around trying to solve a puzzle. Anna had become more helpful throughout the ordeal. She began to throw in her opinion more and try to lead the consulting detective to the answers as best as she could. All the same, Sherlock still suspected her. She knew something. He could tell. It was the way she reacted to things; like the old deaf lady who was killed. Sherlock wasn't sure he'd ever get her to move again. Or when the child was on the phone at the art gallery. Anna had been clutching John's arm while tears streamed down her face. But the biggest clue was when they were talking with the lady from the exhibit. She said a name. Sherlock knew the name. He'd heard it before when the cabbie had been trying to kill him. It had come up on other occasions too. But Anna's reaction was interesting. She began to shake and start wringing her hands. The name was Moriarty.  
After the fake painting problem was solved, Sherlock sent John off to dig deeper in the case Mycroft had confronted them with earlier. After a few minutes, , Sherlock and Anna followed, more like stalked, John. He lead them to a train yard, the place Andrew West had been found dead. John talked to a worker for a bit before searching for clues. Sherlock jumped in after the worker left. John accused Sherlock of following hkm, Sherlock didn't decline. He admitted he had been following the case all along. Anna wasn't sure why. These missile plans didn't have anything to do with the bombs. Unless she hasn't been given all the information, which was probably the case. Sherlock seemed to think this was important.  
"I don't get you," she said to him as they walked.  
"Hmm?" He responded.  
"I thought this wasn't important. Not interesting?"  
"Oh no, this is important and very interesting." He corrected her. Anna didn't respond. The truth was, she did get him. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He reminded her of someone. Someone she wasn't very keen to remember.  
Sherlock lead Anna and John to a flat close by the railway tracks. They walked up the stairs and Sherlock went to open the door.  
"What if there's someone in?" John asked.  
"There isn't." Sherlock assured him. He picked the lock with ease and the trio entered the flat.  
"Where are we?" John asked, still whispering.  
"Oh sorry, didn't I say? Joe Harrison's flat."  
"Joe...?"  
"Brother of West's fiancée." Sherlock was moving around the upper room looking for clues. He pushed open the curtains from the window, looked out, and smiled. He'd solved it.  
"He stole the memory stick, killed his prospective brother-in-law." Sherlock pulled out a small magnifying glass and held it up to the window seal. John peered over his shoulder to try and see just what he was looking at. There were little spots of blood along the seal.  
"Then why'd he do it?" John asked. The front door opened and all three turned their heads toward the sound.  
"Let's ask him," Sherlock said. John and Anna pulled out their guns and moved over to the stairs, John in front of Anna. Joe had just come back from a bike ride it seemed. He was about to bring his bike up the stairs when John appeared, his gun hidden. Joe picked up his bike, ready to attack when John pointed his gun at him and Anna slipped behind John, holding the same position.  
"Don't, don't," John warned. Joe dropped his bike and threw his head back. There was no use in fighting. He'd been caught.  
They sat him down on his sofa in his front room, trying to patiently get the story out of him.  
"It wasn't meant to...God," his voice was shaky. His breathing was unsteady. "What's Lucy going to say?"  
"Why did you kill him?" John asked.  
"It was an accident. I swear it was." Sherlock laughed a bit.  
"But stealing the plans for the missile defense program wasn't an accident, was it?" Sherlock accused. Joe sighed.  
"I stared dealing drugs." He admitted. "I mean the bike things a great cover, right? I don't know, I don't know how it started. I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands. Serious people. Then at Westie's engagement do, he starts talking about his job. Usually he's so careful, but that night after a few pints he really opened up." Harrison slipped into a flashback. "He told me about these missile plans, beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick, he waved it in front of me. You hear about these thing getting lost, ended up on rubbish tips and whatnot, but there it was and I thought...well I thought it could be worth a fortune. It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew."  
"What happened?" John asked. How admitted to pushing West down the steps of his flat, killing him.  
"I was going to call an ambulance, but it was too late. I just didn't have a clue what to do so I dragged him in here. I just sat in the dark, thinking."  
"When a neat little idea popped into your head," Sherlock said finishing his thought. Harrison had dragged West's body over the the tracks and planted it on top of a train. The train left, carting West's body with it. If it hasn't been for the track switching, creating a bump that made the body fall off, it would have continued on for ages.  
"You still have it then? The memory stick?" John asked. Joe nodded.  
"Fetch it for me, if you wouldn't mind." Sherlock commanded. Joe got up off the couch to go find the stick. While he was gone. Sherlock grouped John and Anna together by him.  
"Distraction over, the game continues." Sherlock whispered.  
"Well maybe that's over too," John said. "We've heard nothing from the bomber."  
"Five pips, remember, John. It's a countdown. We've only had four," Sherlock said. Joe brought the memory stick to them and Sherlock pocketed it. They left quickly after that. Anna still wasn't sure why the stick was of importance. He wouldn't want it would he? And if he did, why make Sherlock get it? He could do it himself. Anna continued thinking all the way back to the flat. Back at the flat, Sherlock planted himself in front of the Telly, screaming at some show. Anna chuckled to herself while she watch him. John sat at a table on his computer.  
"I knew it was dangerous," he commented.  
"Hmmm?"  
"Getting you into crap Telly. Have you given Mycroft the memory stuck yet?"  
"Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood...again."  
Anna smiled at the thought of Sherlock receiving a knighthood.  
"You know I'm still waiting."  
"Hmm?"  
"For you to admit a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."  
"Didn't do you any good did it?" Sherlock shot back. Anna sighed.  
"Are we really going to do this again?" She asked them. They ignored her.  
"No but I'm not the worlds only consulting detective."  
Sherlock smiled. "True."  
"I won't be in for tea," John said standing up. "I'm going to Sara's."  
"There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge. Milk, we need milk."  
"I'll get some," Sherlock said. John looked surprised. Sherlock never got the milk.  
"Really?"  
"Really."  
"And some beans then?"  
Sherlock nodded. John, still looking surprised, left the flat. Once he was gone, Anna said,  
"You're going to make me go get the milk and beans aren't you?"  
"If you wouldn't mind."  
Anna sighed and got up off the couch heading toward the door, but she stopped and turned back at him.  
"You didn't give the missile plans to Mycroft."  
Sherlock reached in his pocket and pulled out the memory stick in one swift movement.  
"And you think this is what our bomber is after?"  
"You don't?"  
"Not really, no."  
"Then what do you think?"  
"I think, that he's bored."  
Sherlock nodded in agreement and pulled out his laptop.  
"Sending him a message?" Anna asked. Sherlock nodded.  
"Make sure your back here before midnight. I've got someone I'm dying to meet."  
Anna left the flat feeling very uncomfortable. She got back with the groceries around tenish. Sherlock was still in front of the TV. She sat on the other arm chair and together they watched in silence. At 11:30, they got a taxi that took them to the pool. They picked their way in and stood in the pool room. It smelled of chlorine and the gentle water cast dancing shadows on the walls. Anna shuffled nervously behind Sherlock. She wasn't sure she was ready for this. Sherlock was walking around with his hands behind his back, waiting. Nothing happened, so he pulled out the stick and began to circle himself, looking for any sign of anyone.  
"I brought you a little getting-to-know-you present," he said to the empty room. "That's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this." A door opened behind them and they turned. Sherlock's look, was a look of confusion and maybe a hint of betrayal. Anna's, was pure fear. John walked out of the door, a heavy parka covered his body.  
"Evening." He said coolly. "This is a turn-up, isn't it Sherlock?"  
"John, what the hell..." There was fear in Sherlock's voice.  
"Let him go." Anna said to the room.  
"Bet you never saw this coming," John continued. Anna's eyes shifted around. He's throwing Sherlock off, Anna thought. Making him think it's John.  
Sherlock slowly started to walk towards John. John then opened up the parka, revealing the explosives strapped onto his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N. Ok so disclaimer, I don't own Sherlock, the characters, the dialog, (unless Anna is involved) ect ect. You guys get it. Chapter 8 will be up probably sometime this weekend. Thanks for following and favoriting. It's very much appreciated:) xxx**

Chapter 7  
"Let him go!" Anna screamed. Her voice echoed off the pool walls.  
"What would you like me to make him say next?" John's voice was shaky. Sherlock started walking in circles, looking around the pool. The red dot of a sniper danced threateningly on John's chest.  
"Gottle of geer, gottle of geer, gottle-"  
"Stop that." Sherlock ordered. John stopped.  
"Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him," John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the strength to go on. "I can stop John Watson too." His voice cracked. "Stop his heart."  
John looked down at the explosives on his chest, then up at Sherlock. His eyes were pleading for help. Sherlock actually looked scared.  
"Who are you?" Sherlock called out, turning in circles again.  
Across the pool, a door opened. Anna clenched her fists and closed her eyes. This is it, she told herself.  
"I gave you my number," a voice called out. Anna opened her eyes. "I thought you might call."  
Anna sighed and stepped back a bit. A man emerged from behind the door. His ebony hair was slicked back and his black eyes stared coldly. He wore an expensive looking suit. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked toward them.  
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He asked Sherlock, grinning a little bit. Sherlock pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man.  
"Both."  
"Jim Moriarty," the man said introducing himself. "Hi!"  
Sherlock looked at him a bit confused.  
"Jim?" The man continued. "Jim from the hospital?" He was mimicking Sherlock's thoughts. Sherlock held the gun with both hands to steady his grip. He was shaking out of rage.  
"Oh, did I really leave such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose, that was rather the point."  
Sherlock looked over at John, and then back at Moriarty, steadying his grip.  
"Oh don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." As Jim continued to walk towards them, his gaze shifted towards Anna. She didn't flinch like she wanted to. She just stared bravely at the man she feared most.  
"I see you found yourself a dance partner, Sherlock." He grinned at her devilishly. "My sister, of all people too. You really don't have the best luck in the world do you?"  
John's head snapped up and starred horrified at Anna. Sherlock shot her the coldest glance she'd ever received. Anna glared at Jim.  
"Oh didn't you tell them?" He asked pretending not to know. "Well, they know now. Don't they? Annabel Moriarty. The name suits you sweetheart." He winked at her before turning his attention back to Sherlock.  
"I've given you a glimpse Sherlock, just a teansy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in that big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you," his eye brows raised at Sherlock.  
"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. To get rid of my lovers nasty sister. Dear Jim please will you fix it for me," Jim smiled as Sherlock mocked his clients. "To disappear to South America."  
"Just so!"  
"The consulting criminal. Brilliant."  
"Isn't it?"  
Sherlock's gaze shifted back to John, who looked up sadly. His face was the face of a man who was about to die.  
"No one ever gets to me," Jim said. "And no one ever will."  
Sherlock cocked his gun. "I did."  
Jim didn't even blink. "You've come the closest. But now you're in my way."  
"Thank you."  
"I didn't mean it as a compliment."  
"Yes you did."  
"Yeah ok I did," Jim's shoulders reached his ears as he talked. "But the flirting's over Sherlock, daddy's had enough now," he said in a sing-song voice that sent shivers up Anna's spine. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play."  
Jim continued to walk closer and Sherlock's eyes kept darting towards John to make sure he was still alright.  
"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." They stared at each other for a moment before Jim started talking again. Sherlock was being awfully quite.  
"Although, I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT," his voiced changed a bit, as though he were changing characters in a story. "Playing gay. Did you like that touch with the underwear?"  
"People have died." Sherlock stated.  
"That's what people DO!" Jim's voice echoed off the walls. There was a hint of something in his eyes. A hint of pain. A memory that Sherlock's words had triggered, but it was gone as quickly as it came.  
"I will stop you," Sherlock promised.  
"No you won't." Moriarty shook his head, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that he was unstoppable.  
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John. John didn't say anything. He just looked at Sherlock. Jim got uncomfortably close to John.  
"You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead," he urged. John closed his eyes. And nodded once at Sherlock.  
"Take it," Sherlock said pulling out the memory stick.  
"Oh! That," Moriarty walked past John and took the stick from Sherlock. "The missile plans." He gazed at Sherlock as he planted a kiss on the stick. "Boring! I could've gotten those anywhere." And to Sherlock's dismay, Moriarty threw the stick into the pool.  
"Sherlock run!" John said suddenly as he jumped on Moriarty, his arms wrapped around the other man's neck, the red dot now danced on both of them. Sherlock stepped back.  
"O-oh!" Moriarty exclaimed. "Good! Very good!" He said laughing.  
"If your sniper pulls the trigger Mr. Moriarty," John told him, "then we both go up."  
"Isn't he sweet." Moriarty said to Sherlock. "I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets." John gave him a good tug on his neck.  
"And so touchingly loyal," Jim turned his face up to John. "But...oops!" He cried out and John squeezed him harder.  
"You've rather shown your hand there, doctor Watson." Moriarty said, laughing as the red dot traveled up to Sherlock's head. Sherlock closed his eyes, as if waiting for the trigger to be pulled. John got off Moriarty and put his arms out as the dot came back to his chest. Moriarty sighed and gave his suit a single brush. "Westwood," he said. Anna rolled her eyes. He'd always loved to wear expensive things.  
"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock, to you?" Jim asked.  
"Oh let me guess," Sherlock said sarcastically. "I get killed."  
"Kill you? No- no don't be obvious I mean I'm going to kill you someday, but I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no no. If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the /heart/ out of you." Jim half smiled at Sherlock, waiting for his response.  
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said. Jim's eyes shifted over to Anna for just a moment before saying,  
"But we both know that's not quite true." He smiled at the detective.  
"Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat." Jim said casually as if this were a conversation with some mates and not a death threat.  
"What if I was to shoot you know? Right now?" Sherlock's position tightened. His gun was aimed right in between the mans eyes.  
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim's eye browns raised and his mouth formed an 'O' as he showed Sherlock his 'surprised face'. "Because I'd be surprised Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teansy but, disappointed."  
Sherlock's finger tapped the trigger. Why wouldn't he pull it?  
"And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He said as he backed into the doorway the John had come through.  
"Catch. You. Later." Sherlock said, moving so the gun was pointing through the doorway.  
"No you won't!" A sing-song voice responded.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Once he was gone, Sherlock ran over to John and stripped off the explosives, throwing them as far as possible. John sank down against a wall. Anna joined him.  
"Are you ok?" John asked him as Sherlock paced back and forth.  
"Me? Ya. Fine. I'm fine. That thing that you um..off offered to do...that was...good," Sherlock was out of breath. adrenaline pumped threw his body. He looked at Anna.  
"I'll deal with you later." He said coldly. She shrunk back and looked at him with the eyes of a child who'd just been scolded.  
"I'm glad no one saw that," John muttered.  
"What?"  
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."  
Sherlock laughed. "People do little else." They laughed a bit, releasing the tension that had been building up the last few minutes. Anna and John had just started to stand back up when multiple little red dots danced all over all three of their chests. John sat back down and threw his head back. Sherlock stared, shocked and Anna's heart sank to her stomach.  
"Sorry boys!" Jim called out coming back into the room. "I'm soooo changeable. It is a weakness of mine but to be fair, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try and convince you but, everything I have to say as already crossed your mind."  
"Probably my answer has already crossed yours." Sherlock turned and pointed his hand gun at Jim. Jim just stared at him, as if daring him to pull the trigger. Then, Sherlock lowered the gun, aiming it at the explosives between them. Jim raised an eye brow. Now this was getting interesting. Anna's heart raced and she leaned onto John. He put his arm around her. Anna could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Anna closed her eyes and clenched her fists. She'd never really been faced with death before, surprisingly. She'd been faced with a lot of things, growing up with Jim, but not death. The pool was silent for a while, everyone just waited for the trigger to be pulled, waiting to not exist anymore. The silence had almost become unbearable when Stayin' Alive blasted through the air. Anna's eyes flew open and stared at her brother.  
"Sorry, mind if I get that?" He asked. Anna sighed. "Way to go Jim," she muttered.  
"Sure, you've got the rest of your life," Sherlock smirked at him. Jim sighed and pulled out his phone.  
"Hello? Yes, of course it is what do you want?" There was a pause. "Say that again!" Jim shouted causing Anna to jump and sink further into John. "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you, and I will skiiinn you." Sherlock and John raised their eyebrows at each other.  
"Sorry," Jim said lowering his phone. "Wrong day to die."  
"Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked. Jim looked down at his phone.  
"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock," he said as he turned to walk away. He gave Anna and John one last look before raising his phone up to his ear.  
"So if you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes. He snapped his fingers, calling off the snipers before he left with the door swinging behind him.  
John let out the breath he had been holding.  
"What happen there?" He asked.  
"Someone changed his mind." Sherlock told him. "The question is, who?"  
After they recovered, the three left the pool and tried to hail a taxi. It had started raining and they weren't having much luck. John was out, getting splashed by passing cars as he tried to wave one down. Sherlock was wrapped up in his coat, thinking. He wouldn't have noticed how cold Anna was if her teeth weren't chattering so loudly. She was wearing a t-shirt that was so wet it stuck tightly to her skin. Her black hair was dripping and she rubbed her arms to try and warm herself. Sherlock sighed. He was still mad at her, but if he didn't warm her, her chattering would continue and it was getting awfully annoying. He pulled her towards him and wrapped her up in his coat. He pulled it tightly against them both. Her small wet body pressed against his. She barely passed his shoulder. Without thinking, she turned her face into his chest, her only thought was warming up. And soon, to Sherlock's delight, her chattering stopped. They were still for a moment, when all of a sudden, Anna rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. She tried to anyway. She missed and got the corner of his mouth on accident. Anna went scarlet, but muttered a quiet "thank you," before snuggling against him again. Sherlock didn't respond. He was stunned. The corner of his lips where hers had touched burned. His cheeks were slightly red, but the blush disappeared when a cab pulled to the curb and John motioned them over. Anna broke out of Sherlock's coat and ducked into the cab. Sherlock sat in between Anna and John. It was nearly one in the morning and Anna and John were exhausted. Sherlock's mind was racing too fast for sleep. He was in the middle of thinking when there was a soft thud on his shoulder. Anna's head was resting against him as she slept. Sherlock was getting annoyed with her infuriating his thoughts, but he didn't want to wake her. Better to let her sleep, he thought. She's been through quite a bit tonight. John's face was pressed against the window, he was also asleep. Anna's body bounced around as the cab drove through the streets. Sherlock put his arm around her to keep her still. She was still freezing. Sherlock could feel how thin and fragile she was and as he looked down at her peaceful face, he wondered what kind of monster would ever want to cause harm to her. That feeling, that weird warm feeling was back. Sherlock pushed it away and went back to his thoughts, but his stomach continued fluttering.  
The cab pulled up at 221B. Sherlock shook Anna and John awake and they piled out of the cab. Anna said goodnight to Anna and John before turning to walk to her flat. John offered to walk with her, but she said it was just next door.  
"It was the only flat I could find on such short notice. I'm lucky I did find it too." She paused. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Really I am. I was just scared and-"  
"It's alright. Really. Just go get some rest. We're right next door if anything happens." John told her. She nodded. "Thank you. Goodnight." John told her goodnight and Sherlock nodded before going inside their flat. Anna went inside hers. The only furniture was an old couch she'd found in an alleyway, the T.V, a coffee table, and the small bed in the bedroom. She was still out searching for a job so she could pay her rent, but she'd be fine for another month or so. That was plenty of time to find a good job. She changed into warm clothes and curled up with Lucy in the bed. She fell asleep to Lucy's familiar snores and knew as long as she had her dog with her and the Consulting Detective next door, she'd be safe.

**A/N Hey guys! So this is just kind of a fluffy transition chapters into much more important events:) I can't wait! Anyway, that's for all the sweet reviews! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this. It's so much fin for me to write so knowing people are having fun reading it makes me smile:) xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Anna stood in front of her easel, paint brush in hand. The old boom box sitting on the coffee table was blasting some 80's rock band. She was painting a rainforest and was covered in bright color splotches. Lucy was sprawled out on the kitchen floor.  
There was a knock at the door, and Anna paused the boom box. She answered the door, and two men stood at the door. They wore tailored black suits and were clean shaven. Business workers, Anna quickly deduced.  
"Can I help you?" She asked.  
"Are you Anna Moriarty?"  
Anna sighed. "Yes, that's me. What do you want?"  
"You haven't payed rent in three months."  
"Yeah well, I'm working on it."  
One man looked into the house. It was covered in paint splattered tarps and there were dirty dishes everywhere. He smiled smugly.  
"Yes I can see that." He said sarcastically and Anna had the urge to flick her paint brush at him.  
"We're giving you one week Ms. Moriarty. Either come up with the money, or get out." The two men handed her a few documents before leaving. After they were gone, Anna sank down to the floor as panic flooded her body. She had no way to come up with the money and no where to go. She had an idea, but it would only buy her a little time.  
Anna changed her clothes and went to the bank to withdraw the money from her account. She had just enough to keep her furniture in a warehouse for a month. If she didn't have a job then, then she'd call her mom for help. That was the last thing Anna wanted to do, but she had no choice. She could almost hear her mother's 'I told you so' voice telling her she knew Anna wouldn't be able to make it on her own in England.  
A few days later, some movers came to take Anna's furniture to the warehouse. Anna called her landlord and was told to leave the key under her mat when she left. All her belongings that weren't at the warehouse were packed into her large suit case. She and Lucy left the flat, locked the door and put the key in the appropriate place. Then, Anna went to sulk on the curb. It was her own fault really, she could have tried harder to find a job. As she thought about what to do next, a little thought popped in her head:  
"Go ask Jim for help."  
The thought was quickly banished. A month ago he had tried to kill her. She wasn't about to move in with her brother.  
Just then, John left 221B to get the milk. They were out again and Sherlock wasn't going to do it. John noticed Anna and thought it was odd she had her suit case.  
"Going somewhere?" He asked. She shrugged.  
"Is there a somewhere to go to?"  
"Is something wrong?"  
"I can't pay for my flat. They kicked me out. I'm going to have to call my mom and have her come get me. I'd rather die."  
"Too bad last month didn't work out."  
Anna laughed a bit. "Seriously."  
John shuffled awkwardly a bit. He couldn't just leave her there. He should ask her to move in, but what would Sherlock say? And where would she sleep? Curse his good heart, he was going to do it.  
"Come stay with us." He said abruptly. Maybe too abruptly. It seemed to have scared her a bit.  
"Sorry, what?"  
"Come stay, with Sherlock and I."  
"I couldn't help pay the rent."  
"Our landlady owes Sherlock a favor so we're getting a killer deal."  
Anna shook her head. "That's a really sweet offer, but I don't want to intrude on your lives."  
"It will be no trouble at all. You'll have to sleep on the couch I'm afraid, but it's better than under the bridge."  
"I still feel bad about the rent."  
"If it makes you feel better, you could do the cooking and cleaning and shopping to make up for it." John suggested. Anna nodded in agreement. John helped her up.  
"And Lucy?" Anna asked, hoping they'd let her keep her bloodhound.  
"She can stay too," John sighed. At least she didn't bark.  
John led Anna into the flat. Sherlock was perched on a chair with his hands in front of his face and his eyes closed.  
"I really shouldn't interrupt him, but-" John muttered to himself as he shook Sherlock's shoulder a bit. Sherlock opened one eye that gazed irritatedly at John.  
"What."  
"Can I talk to you for a moment?"  
The two men left Anna alone as they disappeared down the hall. She sat on the couch that was to be her bed. It wasn't too bad. She tried to ignore the whispered that came from behind the door. A few moments later, Sherlock and John came back out. Sherlock glared at Anna, but stuck out his hand and said:  
"Welcome to 221B Anna Moriarty."  
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck rather than shaking his hand.  
"Thank you Sherlock." She said. "I won't be a problem, I promise."  
He pulled her away.  
"Keep your enemies close," he muttered before returning to his previous position. Anna glanced at John, who shrugged in response.  
"I'll go get the milk," Anna said. John handed her his card and she left to the grocer.  
For the first few weeks, Anna just tried to stay out of their way as client after client came in, most of which were turned away. But as she began interjecting her opinion, which most of the time ended up being fact, she was soon brought along on cases. Sherlock found that having two geniuses where much better than one. Things got done quicker. But Anna was careful not to nudge herself between Sherlock and John. They had one of the strongest friendships she'd ever seen and the last thing she wanted was to be the reason for its end.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The morning of the start of their next big adventure was pretty normal. As normal as you can get in 221B. Anna woke up and showered, as usual. She wrapped her hair up in a towel and tied her robe around her. She made her way from the bathroom in the hall to the kitchen to make a breakfast for Sherlock, that he'd just ignore.  
John had left earlier to go investigate a case. Sherlock couldn't be bothered with leaving. It wasn't important enough to him, so he and John used Skype to communicate. When Anna came out into the living room, she found Sherlock sitting at the desk, Skyping with John, wrapped in a bed sheet.  
"New outfit?" Anna asked him sarcastically as she set his breakfast next to him. He ignored her.  
"Sherlock, are you wearing anything under that...sheet?" Anna asked. Sherlock turned and gave her a look.  
"Are you wearing anything under your robes?" He raised his eyebrows. Anna's cheeks turned a little pink.  
"Touché," Anna muttered, and she left to go change and dry her hair.  
When she came back out into the room, to men in suits were talking with Sherlock. One held a pair of clothes.  
"What's going on?" Anna asked nervously. The last time two men in suits came to her door, things didn't end well.  
"Who are you?" One of them asked.  
"Anna. I'm his roommate."  
"Then maybe you can talk some sense into him. He won't get dressed."  
"Why should I?" Sherlock shot back cheekily.  
"Mr. Holmes, you'll want to be dressed where you're going." They told him. Sherlock and Anna quickly glanced over the men and practically in unison said,  
"I know exactly where I'm going." Sherlock and Anna, who Sherlock had insisted come along, we're led to a black car that was sitting outside the flat. They piled in the back and the driver began the short drive to Buckingham Palace.  
They got there before John and where led into a large room with two couches facing each other. Sherlock sat on one couch and Anna was given his clothes.  
"Please try and get him dressed." They told her.  
"I'll do my best." She told them. They left and Anna put the clothes on the coffee table.  
"Is there any point in asking?"  
"Nope." He told her. She sighed and sat at the other end of the couch.  
A few minutes later, John came into the room to. He gave Sherlock a confused look, and Sherlock shrugged. John sat down in between Anna and Sherlock. He glanced at Sherlock and frowned.  
"Are you wearing any pants?" John asked him.  
"No."  
"Okay." There was a pause before the three of the burst into laughter. This was the most ridiculous situation they'd been in.  
"Buckingham Palace, right." John said once the laughter had died. "Oh I'm fighting the impulse to steal an ash tray." The laughter picked back up.  
"What are we doing here Sherlock Holmes. Seriously, what?"  
"I don't know."  
"Here to see the queen?" Just at that moment, Mycroft walked into the room.  
"Oh apparently," Sherlock muttered and they all began laughing again. Mycroft had a very unamused look on his face.  
"Just once could you behave like grown ups?" Mycroft hissed.  
"We solve crimes, I blog about it, and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold up too much hope."  
"I'm just along for the ride." Anna said shrugging, still trying to stifle her laughter.  
"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock said irritated.  
"What, the hiker and the backfire?" Mycroft asked. "I glanced over the police report, a bit obvious really."  
"Transparent."  
"Time to move on then." Mycroft picked up the pile of clothes from the table. Sherlock gave him a look that clearly read he was not going to put on his clothes.  
"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British Nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on."  
"What for?" Sherlock asked smirking. Anna couldn't even imagine what it would have been like to grow up with young stubborn Sherlock.  
"Your client."  
"And my client is?" Sherlock asked standing up.  
"Illustrious, in the extreme." A man said, joining the group in the room. "And remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous. Mycroft," he said turning to the elder Holmes.  
"Erick. May I apologize for the state of my little brother," Mycroft said shaking the man's hand.  
"Full time occupation I imagine. This must be Dr. John Watson. Formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."  
"Hello, yes." John said, shaking the man's hand.  
"My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog," Erick said. John turned and smiled smugly at Sherlock.  
"And um, who are you?" He asked getting to Anna.  
"Anna." She said and looked at Sherlock, checking if it was alright to say her last name. He nodded. "Anna Moriarty." She shook Erick's hand and could see Mycroft raise his eyebrows at her. So he knew her brother.  
"And Mr. Holmes, the younger. You look taller in your photographs."  
"I take the precaution of a long coat and a short friend. Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients." Sherlock began to walk out of the room. "I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work. Good morning." He almost left, but Mycroft, thinking quickly, stepped on the end of the sheet. Sherlock caught it before it fell all the way off him.  
"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." Mycroft said, his patience wearing thin.  
"Get off my sheet." Sherlock said through clenched teeth.  
"Or what?"  
"Or I'll just walk away."  
"I'll let you."  
"Boys please, not here." John said, stepping in.  
"Who. Is. My. Client." Sherlock demanded.  
"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction." Mycroft sighed. "You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake, put your clothes on!" Sherlock sighed. He'd lost. He went to go change and rejoined the group. A tea tray had been delivered and Mycroft poured the tea.  
"My employer has a problem." Erick said.  
"A matter has come to light of extremely delicate and potential criminal nature. And in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen." Mycroft said.  
"Why? You have a police force, of sorts. Even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?"  
"People do come to you for help, don't they?"  
"Not to date, anyone with the navy." He was mocking their forces. They had practically told him he was better than the navy by coming to him for help. What that would do to his ego, Anna didn't want to begin to imagine it.  
"This is a matter of the highest security, therefore of trust." Mycroft explained.  
"You don't trust your own secret service?" John asked.  
"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." Mycroft smiled at John, and John smiled back.  
"I do think we have a time table." Erick said to Mycroft.  
"Yes, of course." Mycroft opened his brief case and pulled out a few papers. "What do you know about this women?" He handed the papers to Sherlock. The first one had a picture of a women on it.  
"Nothing whatsoever."  
"Then you should be paying more attention. She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately."  
"You know I don't concern myself with trivia," Sherlock said, making an excuse for why he didn't recognize the face. "Who is she?"  
"Irene Adler. Professionally know as The Women."  
"Professionally?"  
"There are many names for what she does. She prefers Dominatrix."  
"Dominatrix," Sherlock repeated.  
"Don't be alarmed." Mycroft says. "It has to do with sex."  
"Sex doesn't alarm me," Sherlock said.  
"How would you know?"  
The mask Sherlock used to hide his emotions dropped for a moment. He'd been made fun if quite a bit in the past few minutes and he was hurting. But he quickly covered it up. Anna noticed though.  
"She provides, shall we say, recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it. These are all from her website," Mycroft handed Sherlock more papers. He flipped through them.  
"And I assume this Adler women has some compromising photographs."  
"Very quick, Mr. Holmes."  
Sherlock shot Erick a look. He was clearly very tired with this man.  
"Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?"  
"A person of significance to my employer." Erick chose his words carefully. "We prefer not to say anymore at this time."  
"You can't tell us anything?" John asked.  
"I can tell you it's a young person." Mycroft said. "A young female person."  
"How many photographs?" Sherlock asked.  
"A considerable number, apparently."  
"Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?"  
"Yes they do."  
"Then I assume in a number of compromising scenarios."  
"An imaginative range, we are assured."  
"John you might want to put that cup back in its saucer now." Sherlock said. John's tea cup had been hovering by his lips as his listened to the conversation. Embarrassed, John put the cup back.  
"Can you help us, Mr. Holmes?"  
"How?"  
"Take the case."  
"What case? Pay now, pay here in full. As Adler remarked in her masthead, know when you are beaten."  
"She doesn't want anything." Mycroft said. "She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor."  
"A power play," Sherlock muttered.  
"A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that's a dominatrix. This is getting rather fun isn't it?"  
"Sherlock," John said warningly.  
"Where is she?" Sherlock asked.  
"London. She's currently staying-"  
"Text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day." Sherlock stood and began to walk out of the room. John motioned Anna to follow.  
"Do you really think you'll have news by then?" Mycroft asked.  
"No, I think I'll have the photographs." Sherlock said smugly.  
"One can only hope you're as good as you seem to think," Erick said. Anna was beginning to dislike this man.  
Sherlock's eyes shifted over Erick, taking everything in.  
"I'll need equipment of course." Sherlock said to Mycroft.  
"Anything you require. I'll have it sent over."  
"Can I have a box of matches?" Sherlock asked Erick.  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Or your cigarette lighter, either will do."  
"I don't smoke."  
"No I know you don't, but your employer does." Sherlock held out his hand, waiting for the lighter.  
"We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about that, Mr. Holmes."  
"I'm not the commonwealth."  
"And that's as modest as he gets." John said trying to get Sherlock out of the room. "Pleasure to meet you."  
"Laters!" Sherlock called as he left the room. Anna sighed and followed the two men. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like this Adler women. And she also felt her brother was involved some how. But when was he not?


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry it's taken so long for me to update. Here's a super long chapter to make up for it:) **

Chapter 11  
"Okay, the smoking. How did you know?" John questioned once they were in the cab.  
"The evidence is right under your nose, John." Sherlock said. "As ever, you see but you do not observe."  
"Observe what?"  
"Ash tray." Sherlock said, whipping a crystal ash tray from his coat pocket. The three of them started laughing. They joked around a bit the rest of the ride.  
Back at the flat, Sherlock immediately began rummaging through his wardrobe.  
"What are you doing?" John asked him as clothes flew from Sherlock's room.  
"Going into battle, John," Sherlock explained. "I need the right armour." He came from the room.  
"And that armour is a fire suit?" Anna asked laughing. Sherlock had on a fireman's jacket. He looked down at the sleeves.  
"Nope." He announced, throwing the jacket off and disappearing back into his room.  
A few moments later, Sherlock came out of his room in his usual attire, announcing he was ready to go. They hailed a cab and headed to the address Mycroft had texted Sherlock.  
"What's the plan?" John asked, still not really sure what was going on.  
"Well, we know her address."  
"So we just ring her door bell?" John said sarcastically.  
"Exactly. Just here please," Sherlock told the driver. The driver pulled off to the side and let them out.  
"You didn't even change your clothes," John said.  
"You're just now noticing?" Anna asked.  
"I was trying to add a splash of color," Sherlock said defensively.  
They got out of the cab and followed Sherlock as he walked down the street a bit, and whipped off his scarf. Suddenly, he stopped and turned around.  
"We're here?" John asked.  
"Two streets away but this will do. Go on."  
"What?"  
"Punch me in the face," Sherlock said. John looked stunned.  
"Punch you?"  
"John if you won't, I will." Anna said smiling mischievously at Sherlock. He ignored her. There was that feeling again.  
"Yes, punch me in the face. Didn't you hear me?"  
"I always hear punch me in the face when you're speaking but it's usually subtext." John said. Sherlock rolled his eyes.  
"Oh for God's sake," Sherlock muttered as he took a swing at John that brought him to his knees. Anna stepped back in surprise. John lept up and swung back at Sherlock.  
"Thank you. Thank you-that was-" but Sherlock never got to say exactly what that was because without hesitation, John took Sherlock around the waist and sent him flying, John linked his arms around Sherlock's neck and swung onto his back.  
"I think we've done enough John," Sherlock coughed out.  
"I was a soldier Sherlock, I killed people. John muttered forcefully.  
"You were a doctor!"  
"I had bad days!"  
Anna let them wrestle around a bit more before pulling John off of Sherlock.  
"That's quite enough John, thank you." She said. She picked up Sherlock's scarf off the ground, but instead of handing it to him, she tied it around his neck. He stared at her as her slim fingers brushed against him, giving him chills. She looked up and noticed his gaze. She mentally slapped herself for flirting and backed away.  
John's eyes fluttered between the two. He gave each of them a suspicious look that they both ignored.  
"Well come on then." Anna said quickly. Sherlock led them to the large white house where Irene Adler was being lodged. He pulled out a handkerchief and told John and Anna to stay back. He then played the part of a man who had just been mugged. The whole performance was quite amusing and Anna and John snickered together in the bushes by the side of the house.  
They waited until Sherlock was buzzed in and played witnesses to the "Attack". John explained his medical history and went to get an first aid kit while Sherlock and Anna were motioned into a sitting room.  
"Well, that went well," Anna said. She and Sherlock were sitting side by side on the couch. He nodded.  
"She saw through it all though, of course." Anna said laughing. "Your acting skills are really good though, almost had me convinced." She nudged him sarcastically. He rolled his eyes but smiled a little.  
"I'm sorry you got hurt," a voice from the doorway said. Sherlock jumped right back into character. "I don't think Kate caught your name."  
"I'm so sorry I'm-" Sherlock probably had a fake name and background story all planned out. But as soon he turned his head, everything disappeared. He stared shocked at the women in front of him. Anna shared in his shock. There was not one piece of clothing on her body. Anna quickly diverted her eyes, feeling uncomfortable. But from the corner of her eye, Anna could see Sherlock still staring. Her face burned with jealousy.  
"Oh it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright, isn't it?" The women said smoothly as she walked into the room.  
"Well, there, now." She stood in front of Sherlock. "We're both defrocked." She reached her long fingers into his collar, pulling out the small white paper.  
"Miss Adler, I presume?" Sherlock responded.  
"Oh look at those cheekbones." Irene said, tilting her head a little as she admired Sherlock's face. "I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She smirked at Sherlock and then raised the paper to her lips, bitting it aggressively. Anna rolled her eyes at this act. She really didn't like this Irene women.  
"Alright, this should do it," John's voice came from the hallway. He stopped dead in his tracks when he entered the room. He looked down, a big confused before looking up at Anna.  
"I've missed something, haven't I?" He asked.  
"Yeah." She nodded.  
Irene removed the paper from her mouth.  
"Please, sit down," she said to John. "Or of you'd like some tea I can call the maid."  
"I had some at the palace," Sherlock said.  
"I know," Irene smiled and sat down in a chair. She adjusted her body so she was covering herself. Sherlock continued to stare at the women, which made Anna's face go red. Jealous? Fury? Betrayal? Maybe a combination of the three. She had to remind herself that Sherlock wasn't hers. He hadn't ever given her a second look.  
"I had tea too. From the palace, if anyone's interested." John said from the doorway.  
"Shut up John, no one cares." Anna snapped a bit too harshly. She made a mental note to apologize later.  
Sherlock continued to stare at Irene. Then, he started switching his head between her and John. Anna finally caught on. He can't deduce anything about her, she thought. Oh she is clever to not wear a thing. There was nothing to deduce.  
"Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes?" Irene asked him. He raised his eyebrows. "How ever hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."  
"You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.  
"I think you're damaged, delusional, and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself."  
Sherlock glared at her. She leaned forward a bit, still admiring his face.  
"Somebody loves you." She said. "If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your noise and teeth too." She glanced suggestingly at John. He let out a short, humorless laugh.  
"Could you put something on please? Uh, anything at all. A napkin."  
"Why?" Irene asked. "Are you feeling exposed?" She was taunting him.  
"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said. John glared back at him.  
"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene stood and walked towards John. He blushed and tried to keep his eyes on hers as best he could. "I'm not sure about you." She said turning to Sherlock. He handed her his coat and she put it on.  
"If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's lap top."  
"You do borrow my lap top."  
"I confiscate it."  
"Boys." Anna said irritated. She wanted to leave. For the first time since she'd gotten there, Irene turned to look at Anna.  
"And who are you sweetheart?" Irene asked.  
"Anna." She said sharply.  
"Oh, you're Anna. Yes I see it. I was warned about you." She said.  
"Warned?" Anna smirked. "Am I a threat now?"  
"More of informed, I suppose. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard...so much." Irene smiled devilishly at her.  
"I wish I could say the same." Anna shot back.  
"Who's informed you?" John asked, still a little lost.  
"Oh, never mind." Irene said turning to him. "We've got better things to talk about. Now, tell me. I need to know. How was it done?" Irene sat herself down on the couch. Anna went to go stand by John. She was worried she'd seriously hurt the women if she was too close.  
"What?" Sherlock asked.  
"The hiker with the bashed in head."  
"That's not why I'm here." Sherlock said, wondering why she was bringing this up now.  
"No you're here for the photographs. But that's never going to happen, so since we're here just chatting anyway.  
"That's story's not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?" John asked.  
"I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes."  
"Oh," John said, feeling slightly awkward. "And you like policemen?" He sat himself down next to her.  
"I like detective stories. And detectives. Brainy's the new sexy" she said smirking. Sherlock tried to say something, but it came out tongue tied. Anna raised her eyebrows. He really found this women appealing?  
"Business with the car relative to the hiker at the time of the backfire. The fact that the death blow was to the back of the head, that's all you need to know." Sherlock said, pacing back and forth.  
"Okay, tell me how was he murdered." Irene pried. Anna sighed. It was obvious wasn't it? Maybe this women wasn't all too clever after all.  
"He wasn't," Sherlock looked smug.  
"You don't think he was murdered?"  
"I know he wasn't."  
"How?"  
"The same way that I know the photographs are in this room."  
"Okay, but how?" Irene asked carefully.  
"Oh, so they are in this room. Thank you," Sherlock smiled at her. "John, Anna, man the door. Let no one in."  
The too nodded and left the room, leaving Sherlock and Irene alone. Something Anna wasn't all too comfortable doing.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12  
John reached in his pocket for the lighter, took hold of a magazine on a near by table, and rolled it up.  
"What's wrong?" He asked Anna nonchalantly.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Your face is still red. What's wrong?" He asked again.  
"We'll John, you're more observant than I thought. He gave her a look but didn't say anything.  
"Nothing's wrong other than the fact that Miss Adler is repulsive and I don't want to spend another minute in that room.  
"You're jealous." John said, lighting the magazine.  
"I'm not." Anna said defensively.  
"Yes you are." John smiled at her before fanning the smoke towards the fire alarm. After a moment, it went off. They let the alarm beep for a bit before Sherlock's voice called out from the room.  
"John you can turn it off now."  
John was busy trying to put out the fire by hitting the rolled up magazine on a table.  
"Just give me a minute," he called back. Just then, they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Four men, each with guns came barreling towards them. One of them shot the alarm, stoping the noise.  
Two more pointed their guns at Anna and John.  
"Thank you," John muttered.  
They were shoved at gun point back into the room.  
"Hands behind your head. On the floor, keep it still." One of the men demanded. John, Anna and Irene were shoved to the floor and the man who spoke stood in front of Sherlock.  
"Sorry Sherlock," John grunted as he was shoved down.  
"Do you want me on the floor too?" Sherlock asked lightly.  
"No sir I want you to open the safe." The mans voice was rough.  
"American," Sherlock observed. "Interesting. Why would you care?"  
"Sir, the safe now please."  
"I don't know the code." Sherlock's voice was unusually calm for having a gun aimed straight at his forehead.  
"We've been listening, she said she told you."  
"Well, if you've been listening you'll know she didn't."  
"I'm assuming I missed something. From your reputation I'm assuming you didn't Mr. Holmes."  
Anna thought she saw the gun aimed at her get a little closer. She flinched away and the action received her a kick in the side. She let out a sharp breath, but didn't make a noise. She kept her eyes shut. Having a gun aimed at her wasn't something she was used to, but she got the feeling that if she continued hanging around Sherlock, she'd get used to the feeling very quickly.  
"For God's sake she's the one who knows it ask her." John blurted out, gesturing slightly to Irene.  
"Yes, sir," the American responded. "She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the burglar alarm. I've learned not to trust this women.  
"Mr. Holmes doesn't-" Irene started to say, but she was cut off.  
"Shut up," the American growled. "One more word out of you, just one, and I will decorate that wall with the insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship." Then he smirked at Sherlock. "Mr. Archer, Mr. Hales, one the count of three, shoot Miss Moriarty and Dr. Watson."  
"What?" Anna and John exclaimed at the same time. Anna's eyes flew open.  
"I don't know the code." Sherlock's calm voice was flooded with panic.  
"One."  
Anna let out a whimper and the gun was shoved against her neck and her head forced down. Sherlock flinched at the whimper. It was so innocent, like shooting a puppy.  
"I don't know the code." He was having a hard time keeping his voice steady.  
"Two."  
"She didn't tell me." Sherlock's voice was getting louder. "I don't know it!"  
"I'm prepared to believe you any second now."  
Sherlock looked hopefully at Irene, who just starred back.  
"Three."  
Anna let out a small cry of panic and closed her eyes and waited for the sound of the gun, for a sharp pain in her head, and then nothing. But it never came.  
"No stop." Sherlock said before the trigger was pulled. The guns let up a little, but only a little. John gave Anna a semi comforting glance as Sherlock turned to the safe. After pressing a few buttons, the safe beeped, acknowledging it had been unlocked.  
"Thank you Mr. Holmes. Open it please."  
Sherlock placed his fingers on the handle, but paused.  
"Vatican Cameos." He said quickly.  
"Down." John whispered to Anna almost the exact same time. As Sherlock opened the safe, John and Anna flattened themselves. The gunman behind Anna was shot once in the chest from the booby trap and John swung his leg out from under himself, bringing his gunman down to the floor and revived a vicious blow to the head from a piece of furniture. Sherlock and Irene felt with their gunman until there were three unconscious, and one dead.  
"You were very observant." Irene said.  
"Thank you."  
"I'm flattered." She smiled at him.  
"Don't be."  
"Flattered?" John asked and glanced at Anna. She shrugged, but wasn't paying much attention. She was still on the ground, shaking. John helped her up and put his arms around her.  
"Their'll be more of them." Sherlock said. "They'll be keeping an eye on the building." Sherlock, John, and Anna all left the house.  
"We should call the police," John said, one arm still around Anna.  
"Yes." Sherlock pointed the gun he had taken from the American and fired a few rounds into the air. Each shot made Anna flinch.  
"On there way." He said, turning back inside.  
"Check the rest of the house, see how they got in." He told Anna and John. They went upstairs to see if they could find anything.  
"Well, that's the money to put in the bank." Sherlock pulled out the camera phone he'd taken from the safe and gave it a flip.  
"Oh, and that's mine." Irene said, sticking out her hand. Sherlock turned on the phone and the lock screen came up. Of course it would be locked. Just one more code for him to crack.  
"All the photographs are on here, I presume?"  
"I have copies, of course." She lied.  
"No you don't. You've disabled any kind of uplink or connection. Unless the contents of this phone proved to be unique, you wouldn't be able to sell them."  
"Who says I'm sell?" She asked him, raising an eyebrow.  
"Well, why would they be interested?" He asked, gesturing to the men laying around them. "Whatever's on the phone is clearly not just photographs."  
"That camera phone is my life, Mr. Holmes. I'll die before I let you take it. It's my protection."  
"Sherlock!" John called from upstairs. Sherlock gave the phone another little flip.  
"It was," he said grinning a little. Irene followed him out of the room to go meet up with John and Anna.  
"Must have come in this way," John said when Sherlock got to the room.  
"Clearly," Sherlock muttered. Anna was leaning over the women who had buzzed them in, checking her pulse.  
"It's alright," John said as Irene looked down at the women, worried. "She's just out cold."  
"Well God knows she's used to that." Irene sighed. "There's a back door. Better check it Dr. Watson," She told him. John glanced at Sherlock who gave him a slight nod.  
"Sure." He left the room to go check the door.  
"You too Miss Moriarty."  
"I don't think it'll take more than one person to check the door," she hissed. But Sherlock nodded her out and she left the room, but stayed hidden in the hallway. She was worried for Sherlock's well being.  
"You're very calm," Sherlock said as Irene rummaged through the vanity drawer. From where Anna was standing, she could see Irene take something from the drawer, but she kept it hidden in the sleeve of the coat. She looked at Sherlock, slightly confused.  
"We'll your booby trap did just kill a man."  
"He would have killed me. It was self defense in advance." Irene explained, walking towards Sherlock. She placed a gentile hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He turned to look at her. Without warning, she reached around him and stabbed him in his other shoulder with a syringe. Anna didn't hesitate in running into the room.  
"What - what's that? What?" He exclaimed, trying to pulled the syringe from Irene. She smacked him around a little. His balance was off and he started falling.  
"Stop!" Anna cried out from behind her.  
"Give it to me, now." Irene said to Sherlock with her hand out. "Give it to me. Give it to me." It sounded like she was scolding a small child.  
"No," Sherlock muttered, trying to regain his balance.  
"Give it to me!"  
"No." Sherlock fell on all fours, the camera phone still clutched tightly in his hand.  
"For goodness sake," Irene sighed and took the riding crop from the vanity. "Drop it." She said holding the riding crop threateningly.  
"Don't you dare." Anna spat.  
Irene ignored Anna and brought the riding crop down hard on Sherlock.  
"I said drop it." She said. He took three hits and collapsed, releasing the phone.  
"Oh, thank you dear." Irene bent down to take the phone as Anna knelt down my Sherlock. She checked his eyes for a concussion and rubbed his head a bit while glaring daggers at Irene. Irene smirked at her.  
"You can tell that sweet little thing the pictures are safe with me. Not for black mail, just for insurance. Besides, I might want to see her again." Irene grinned. Sherlock started to try and sit up, but Irene pushed him back to the floor with the riding crop.  
"Oh no no no," she murmured. Anna smacked the riding crop away. Irene smirked. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Holmes. Don't spoil it. This is how I want you to remember me, as the women who beat you." She stood towering over Sherlock. "Goodnight, Mr. Sherlock Holmes." She grinned at him as John walked into the room.  
"Jesus," he said when he saw Sherlock lying next to Anna. "What are you doing?"  
"He'll sleep for a few hours. Male sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit. It makes for a very unattractive corpse." Irene said walking away from Sherlock.  
"What's this?" John asked, picking up the syringe. "What have you given him?"  
"He'll be fine." Irene said. She was perched on the open bathroom window. "I've used it on loads of my friends."  
"Sherlock can you hear me?" John asked leaning into his face. Sherlock let out a small moan.  
"I was wrong about him," Irene muttered to herself. "He did know where to look."  
"For what? What are you talking about?"  
"The key code to my safe."  
"What was it?" John asked nervously.  
"Shall I tell him?" Irene asked, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock. He groaned in response. She grinned.  
"My measurements," she said and tumbled backwards out the window, disappearing. When the police arrived, they looked for any sign of her, but she was gone. Lestrade helped Anna and John carry Sherlock into a police car and then again into the flat. They laid him in his bed where he slept the rest of the day and well into the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**I'd just like to thank everyone who's reviewed, favorited, and followed so far. This is the farthest I've gotten in any of the fan fictions I've ever written and it's probably my favorite too:) So I'm glad others are enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it:)**

Chapter 13  
John canceled his date that night to take care of Sherlock, even though Anna told him she could manage. They took turns staying up in case he needed something. The next morning, he was fine. Mycroft had come over during breakfast to see how the previous day's activities had played out. He was furious to discover that after everything they'd done, Irene still escaped with the photographs.  
"The photographs are perfectly safe," Sherlock assured his brother while thumbing through the paper.  
"In the hands of a fugitive sex worker," Mycroft replied, mockingly.  
"She's not interested in blackmail. She wants protection, for some reason." Sherlock stared off, thinking for a moment before snapping out of his trance.  
"I take it you stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house."  
"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied." Mycroft said, clearly tired of this conversation.  
"Can't applaud your choice of words," Sherlock said cheekily. John smirked and Anna turned her head to hide the smile that was creeping onto her lips.  
"Do you see how this works? That camera phone is a 'Get Out Of Jail' free card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty Mycroft," Sherlock added with a smile.  
"Though not the way she treats royalty," John chimed in and grinned at Mycroft's unamused face. Anna kicked John from under the table, but she was having a hard time breathing from trying not to laugh.  
Out of no where, a very seductive sigh sounded.  
"What was that?" John asked turning to Sherlock.  
"Text," Sherlock said simply, putting down the newspaper and reaching for his phone.  
"What was that noise?"  
"You knew there were other people after her too, Mycroft." Sherlock said, ignoring John. "Before you sent us in there." Sherlock glanced at his phone and clicked it off, expressionless. "CIA trained killers I think an excellent guess."  
"Yeah thanks for that Mycroft," John said sarcastically.  
"Nothing like a gun pointed at your head to make you feel alive," Anna glared at Mycroft, who glared back.  
"A disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that." Mrs. Hudson huffed coming in to take their plates. "Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."  
"Oh shut up Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft snapped.  
"Mycroft!" The three exclaimed. The room went to a stand-still. Mycroft pursed his lips before giving Mrs. Hudson a somewhat pleasant look that looked absolutely painful.  
"Apologies," he said.  
"Thank you," she said and left back into the kitchen.  
"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock muttered after her. The phone made that noise again and Sherlock peeked from behind his paper to check it.  
"Oh that's a bit rude that noise, isn't it?" Mrs. Hudson asked. Sherlock ignored her.  
"There's nothing you can do and there's nothing she will do as far as I can see."  
"I can put maximum surveillance on her," Mycroft said, as if trying to prove his power.  
"Why bother? You can follower her on twitter. I believe her username is 'The Whip Hand'." Sherlock shot back, diminishing Mycroft's power.  
"Yes," Mycroft said with that painful smile. "Afternoon. Excuse me." He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and began to walk towards the door.  
"Why does your phone make that noise?" John asked.  
"What noise," Sherlock tried to play oblivious.  
"That noise, the one it just made."  
"That's a text alert it means I've got a text," Sherlock said simply as if explaining to a child.  
"Your texts don't usually make that noise," John continued asking his silly oblivious questions, trying to see how far he could go with them.  
"Well somebody got a hold of the phone and apparently as a joke personalized their text noise."  
"So every time they text you-" John was cut off by the phone.  
"It would seem so," Sherlock took his phone and checked the text.  
John glanced up at Anna raising an eyebrow. She laughed.  
"If you're thinking it was me you're dead wrong."  
"Just making sure," he said innocently. "I'm wondering who could have gotten hold of your phone because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?"  
"I'll leave you to your deductions," Sherlock said from behind his paper.  
"I'm not stupid you know," John muttered defensively.  
"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock asked.  
"Well, you two are both so..." John trailed off, continuing to pick at his breakfast. Mycroft walked back into the room, finishing up his phone call. Anna caught "bomb codes" somewhere in there and her mind started to race.  
"Bomb codes," she muttered. "Who do we know that likes to play with bombs?" Sherlock glanced at her and she shrugged.  
"What else does she have? " Sherlock asked Mycroft. He gave Sherlock a puzzled look.  
"Irene Adler," Sherlocl said irritatedly. "The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more," Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he stood. "Much more. Something big's coming, isn't it?"  
"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours." Mycroft took a step back, as Sherlock had gotten very close to him. "From now on you will stay out of this."  
"Oh will I?" Sherlock challenged.  
"Yes, Sherlock." Mycroft said sweetly. "You will."  
Sherlock glowered at his brother and walked off towards his chair, picking up his violin.  
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a very long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."  
"Do give her my love," Sherlock said, placing his violin and playing 'God Save The Queen'. A very unamused Mycroft turned and left the flat. Anna wanted so badly to chase after him and demand he tell her what was going on. She knew her brother was a part if this somehow, that was no mystery, and she was fearing for her life, and the lives of the two men she dared to call her friends.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14  
A few months went by without any further incident. On Christmas Eve, John invited Lestrade, Molly, and his girlfriend over to the flat for a few drinks. Molly, however, couldn't make it until entertained by playing the violin.  
Just a little past midnight, Molly came into the flat.  
"Oh, dear Lord," Sherlock muttered. Anna kicked him softly.  
"Be nice," she hissed. As Molly took off her coat to reveal a very small black party dress, Lucy lept up from in front of the fire place and bounded out the door.  
"Lucy! Heel!" Anna cried after her, but the dog didn't stop. She watched from the window as Lucy ran down the street and around the corner.  
"What's gotten into her? I better go find her." Anna reached for her coat but Sherlock placed his hand on top of hers, stoping her. She turned her head slightly and he was so close their noises were almost touching. Her breath caught in her throat.  
"Do you really think that's wise?" He whispered.  
"Yes of course. There's no one out there if that's what you're worried about." Anna nodded toward the window. Outside, the streets were completely empty.  
"Exactly. No witnesses."  
Anna knew he was right, but that dog was her security system.  
"I'll be fine. I promise," she smiled at him and he backed off a bit. She wrapped the coat around her and darted off.  
The streets were covered with fresh snow so it was easy to find Lucy's paw prints. Anna followed the prints around a few corners and down some alleyways. She turned into a dead end and was about to turn around when Lucy bounded out from the shadows toward Anna.  
"There you are," Anna murmured stroking the dogs head. Their was a faint noise, like someone snapping their fingers, and Lucy obediently ran back towards the noise.  
That's not my dog, Anna thought and she took a few steps back as a figure stepped forward towards her.  
"Oh I'm sorry," he said and she gasped. "Did you think this was your dog?" Jim smiled at her and she turned to run, but it was difficult to run in fresh snow.  
As fast as she could, Anna retraced her steps back to the flat, never looking back once. When she got the the flat, she threw the door open, slamming it behind her, and noisily ran up the stairs. The conversation in the room had stopped and they all turned to stare at Anna. Her face was flushed and she was covered in snow. After a moment of standing in the doorway, she burst into tears.  
"You were right," she choked out at Sherlock. "God, I'm so stupid." She covered her face with her hands. Sherlock took her coat off her and lead her over to the couch.  
"Sherlock what's going on?" John asked nervously.  
"I believe Anna and a bit if a sibling reunion tonight, am I right?" He asked her. She nodded, still shaking.  
Sherlock smirked at her. "Would it be insensitive of me to say I told you so?" He asked. She glared at him through her tears and punched his arm.  
"Very."  
After she calmed down, Anna went to check the window. Sherlock had revived yet another text from /her/ and had gone into his room with a little red package.  
Anna carefully peered out the window and saw her brother standing below it. He smiled and waved at her. She glared at him and drew the curtains shut as intimidating as she could.  
John had gone back to Sherlock's room to make sure he was alright. When he came back, he informed the rest of the party that Ms. Adler was dead. A few minutes later, Sherlock came out of his room and asked Molly to meet him at St. Bart's before taking his coat and leaving.  
"Should I-" Anna started to ask but John shook his head.  
"Leave him. I think that will be best for both of you." Anna nodded and slumped down on the couch. John's phone rang soon after that and he left the room to answer it. When he came back, he said it was Mycroft, worried about Sherlock. John had told him that Sherlock was headed to St. Bart's and that Mycroft should meet him there. Maybe offer him a cigarette to see if he'd take it. If he did, it was probably a danger night.  
"Help me search," John told Anna and together the rummaged through the flat trying to find any hint of Sherlock's stashes. Upon finding nothing, they went back into the living room. Lestrade had left for home, but John's girlfriend still sat in the living room, clearly irritated.  
"You might want to spend some time with her," Anna whispered. John nodded and sat next to her on the couch.  
John later received another call from Mycroft informing him that Sherlock took the cigarette. John let Mycroft know that they hasn't found anything.  
"Are you sure tonight's a danger night?" John asked him.  
"No," Mycroft responded. "But then, I never am. You have to stay with him John."  
"I've got plans."  
"No." Mycroft said firmly and hung up. John glared at his phone before apologizing to Janet.  
"You know, my friends were wrong about you." She said.  
"Huh?"  
"Your a great boyfriend."  
"Ok, that's good," John said a little taken aback. "I always thought I was great."  
"Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man." She reached for her shoes and tugged them on her heels. John sighed. He was getting very tired of being accused for being gay.  
"Oh, Janet please."  
"No, I mean it. It's heartwarming. You'll do anything for him. You can even tell your girlfriends apart. She stood to leave and John chased desperately after her.  
"I'll do anything you want, just tell me." He begged her.  
"Don't make me compete with Sherlock Holmes," she said simply, tugging on her coat.  
"I'll walk your dog for you," John suggested.  
"I don't have a dog!"  
"Right because that was the other one," John muttered.  
"Jesus," Janet exclaimed as she picked up her back to leave.  
"I'll call you?" John asked as she made her way down the stairs.  
"Nope!" She hollered back.  
"That really wasn't very good, was it?" Mrs. Hudson muttered.  
"Honestly John, you have less luck than my brother when it comes to girls." Anna said. "Molly was his first girlfriend in years and she hardly counts."  
When Sherlock came back to the flat, Anna was curled up on in her usual spot on the couch, asleep. John sat next to the fire reading.  
"You ok?" John asked him as he came in. There was a very vacant expression on Sherlock's face. He turned to retire to his bedroom, but before disappearing, he muttered to John, "I hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." John sighed, putting his book down and covered his face with his hand, unsure of how he'd be able to handle Sherlock now. At least Anna was here with him. She'd help make the next few weeks more bearable.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15  
Every day for weeks after, Anna was woken up by the violin. And, by all the ways she could be woken up in this flat, she highly preferred this way. The tune Sherlock was playing this morning was unfamiliar and mournful and she was sure the death of Irene Adler had something to do with it. It had been almost two weeks since her death and Sherlock had barely eaten, slept, or spoke since. Anna couldn't help but wonder if his behavior would be the same towards her death. She wasn't quick to find out, but she wondered.  
John walked into the room and tugged on his coat as Mrs. Hudson came to collect Sherlock's breakfast that he'd hardly touched. The two gave each other a solemn look before continuing on.  
"Lovely time Sherlock, I haven't heard that one before," Mrs. Hudson commented, trying to sound cheery. Sherlock pulled his violin off his shoulder and made a few notes on the sheet music next to him.  
"Composing?" John asked.  
"Helps me to think," Sherlock said simply, placing the violin.  
"What are you thinking about?" Anna asked. Sherlock paused, but resumed his playing without answering her. She sighed and stood from the couch, collected her clothes from the suitcase she kept tucked under the couch, and headed towards the bathroom. After she left, Sherlock stopped his violin, dropping it in the arm chair and pointed at John's computer.  
"The count on your blog is still stuck at 1895."  
"Yes, faulty. Can't seem to fix it."  
"Faulty, or you've been hacked and it's a message." Sherlock took the camera phone and typed the numbers in as the lock code, but no such luck. The phone remained locked.  
"Just faulty." He muttered and picked his violin back up.  
"Right, well I'm going out for a bit." John said. Sherlock didn't respond. John sighed and walked toward Mrs. Hudson in the kitchen.  
"Listen," he said in a hushed tone. "Has he ever had any kind of girlfriend? Boyfriend? A relationship ever?"  
"I don't know," Mrs. Hudson whispered back.  
"How can we not know?" John asked, slightly frustrated by his flatmate's behavior.  
"He's Sherlock," she replied. "How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?"  
"Right. See you." John said and left to head out the door.  
When he left the flat, he started heading down the street but stopped when he heard his name called. He turned and was greeted by a lovely looking women he couldn't recall ever meeting before.  
"Hello. Hello," he muttered, looking her over. She smirked and walked towards him.  
"So, any plans for new year tonight?" She asked. He gave a small laugh.  
"Nothing fixed. Nothing I couldn't heartlessly abandon. You have any ideas?"  
"One," she said and a black car rolled up to the curb next to them. John looked at it in annoyance.  
"You know, Mycroft could just phone me. If he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex." John said, getting in the car.  
Sherlock stood in the window, watching the car drive away. Once it was out of sight, he put down the violin and ran to the bathroom door.  
"Anna, get dressed. We need to leave." Sherlock said tapping his knuckles against the door.  
"I just got out of the shower Sherlock," she said irritated.  
"Then wrap your hair up in a towel."  
"I'm not going out in public like that!"  
"Oh God," he groaned. "Just hurry up!"  
Sherlock swiftly got dressed and waited impatiently for Anna to come out of the bathroom.  
"You took too long." He told her when she emerged.  
"I was five minutes."  
"Which is four minutes thirty seconds longer than you should have been. Now come /on/." He moved quickly down the stairs and out onto the street where he hailed a taxi.  
"So where are we going?" Anna asked.  
"A car came and picked John up in front of the house. It wasn't Mycroft. He could be in trouble." Sherlock said, he drummed his fingers on his knee impatiently and they drove off to some old factory. Sherlock jumped out of the cab as soon as it stopped. Anna asked the driver to wait there for them before following Sherlock.  
"Come on Anna keep up," he called after her as he ran.  
"Your legs are longer," she huffed. "It's harder for me to move that fast."  
Completely fed up, Sherlock snatched her hand and dragged her along side him. Her hand tingled where his fingers met her skin and her brain buzzed a little.  
He led her through the factory until they heard voices down a hallway. One was obviously John but the other...  
"You don't think...?" Anna whispered. Sherlock raised a finger to his lips and led her down an alternate hallway where they could easily see what was going on in the room. John was standing there, talking to a very alive Irene Adler.  
"Tell him you're alive." They heard John say.  
"I can't," she responded.  
"Fine. I'll tell him, and I still won't help you."  
"What do I say?" She asked.  
"What do you normally say?" John was all but shouting at her. "You've texted him a lot."  
"Just the usual stuff."  
"There is no usual in this case."  
Irene glanced down at the phone and started reading some of the texts.  
"Good morning. I like your funny hat. I'm sad tonight lets have dinner. Even sexy crime watchers have dinner. I'm not hungry, lets have dinner."  
"You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?" John asked appalled. Anna's stomach churned.  
"At him. He never replies." That made Anna feel a little better, knowing all her attempts where I'm vain, but all the same.  
"Sherlock always replies to everything. He's never missed a punch line. He will out live God trying to have the last word."  
Sherlock smirked.  
"Does that make me special?" Irene asked.  
"I don't know, maybe."  
Anna glanced up, trying to read Sherlock, but the smirk was gone and his face was stone.  
"Are you jealous?" She teased.  
"We're not a couple."  
"Yes you are," she said grinning. "There." She turned the phone to John. "I'm not dead. Lets have dinner." She hit send on the phone.  
"But who- who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but for the record, if anyone out there still cares, I'm not actually gay." John said, and for a moment, Anna was terribly worried that Sherlock actually might be gay. It would be just her luck that that would be the case.  
"We'll I am. Look at us both." Irene said. There was a moment of silence that was broken by the horrendous text alert noise on Sherlock's phone, signifying that he'd gotten Irene's text. As soon as the phone went off, he and Anna made their way down the hall, out the building and into the awaiting cab.  
The whole ride home, Sherlock was silent. More so than usual. No tapping, no looking around, he simply stared straight a head. Anna pursed her lips in worry, but didn't try to talk to him.  
When they approached the door to the flat, they both noticed something was wrong. There were scratches by the key hole. Some one had broken in.  
They quietly entered the building and went straight to Mrs. Hudson's flat. There were small signs all over of her struggle as she was dragged upstairs.  
Anna had never seen Sherlock look so upset. He glared daggers as he walked up the stairs to their flat. When he opened the door, they walked in to find Mrs. Hudson sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. The Americans they had run into at Irene's house were standing around. The man who appeared to be in charge was standing behind the chair, pointing a gun at Mrs. Hudson's head.  
"Sherlock, oh Sherlock," she cried helplessly.  
"Don't snivel Mrs. Hudson. It'll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet." Mrs. Hudson looked up at him absolutely terrified. "What a tender world that would be."  
"Oh please save me Sherlock," she whimpered.  
"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes." The American said.  
"Then why don't you ask for it?" He asked taking a step towards Mrs. Hudson. He reached his hand out to inspect her wrists. They were bruised. Her sweater was torn on the shoulder and her cheek was bleeding. There was blood on the ring of the American too.  
"We've been asking this one but she doesn't seem to know anything. But you know what I'm asking for, don't you Mr. Holmes."  
"I believe I do." Sherlock said straightening himself up. "First get rid of your boys."  
"Why?"  
"I dislike being outnumbered makes for too much stupid in the room."  
"You two, go to the car." He told them.  
"And get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me you know who I am it doesn't work." Sherlock ordered them and the other attackers left.  
"Next you could stop pointing that gun at me."  
"So you can point one at me?"  
Sherlock took a step back and spread out his arms.  
"I'm unarmed."  
"Mind if I check?"  
"Oh I insist."  
The American came and batted around at Sherlock's coat. Sherlock rolled his eyes and spun around. He had grabbed a can or aerosol cleaning spray from Mrs. Hudson's flat and sprayed it in the mans eyes before head butting him. The man collapsed, passed out. Sherlock immediately moved to Mrs. Hudson's side. He clicked his younger sympathetically as he gently placed his fingers on her chin.  
"Alright. You're alright." He told her. He jumped up and quickly scrawled a note on a piece of paper.  
"Anna go put this on the front door please," he said handing her the paper. She laughed when she read it.  
"Crime in progress. Please disturb."  
Anna tucked it under the knocker. When she came back into the flat, she saw that Sherlock was in the process of tying up the unconscious man. Mrs. Hudson sat shaking on the couch. Anna sat next to her, comforting her.  
The man regained consciousness after a few minutes and they sat in silence waiting for John to get back.  
Once he did, he was very confused.  
"What's going on?" He asked walking into the room. Then he saw the man tied to the chair with a strip of duct tape over his mouth. "What the hell is going on?"  
"Mrs. Hudson's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock said simply and whipped out his phone to contact Lestrade. John sat on the other side on Mrs. Hudson and put his arm around her. She began crying into her hands.  
"John, take her downstairs and look after her. Anna, go with them."  
"I'd much rather stay here I think thanks."  
"Anna." He said sternly. She didn't budge. He sighed and put his phone to his ear.  
"Lestrade, we've had a break in at Baker Street. Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance. No no we're fine. No it's the burglar. He's gotten himself rather badly injured. Oh a few broken ribs, fractured skull, suspected punctured lung," Sherlock eyed the American mischievously. "He fell out of a window." Sherlock clicked the phone shut and glared at the man. Anna watched from the couch, eyebrows raised, and Sherlock opened the window and dumped the man out.  
"You scare me sometimes," she muttered. He smirked at her.  
"Good." Then he ran downstairs to get the attacker and repeat the act.  
When Lestrade arrived with his crew, he and Sherlock stood outside as the paramedics transported the American into their truck.  
"Exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?"  
"It's all a bit of a blur detective inspector. I lost count."  
Once the matter with the American was settled, Sherlock went into Mrs. Hudson's apartment where she, John, and Anna were.  
"She'll have to sleep upstairs tonight, in our flat." John said. "Anna can sleep down here. We need to look after her."  
"She's fine." Sherlock said and reached for the fridge.  
"No she's not look at her." John protested. "She should go and take some time away from Baker Street. She can go stay with her sister. Doctors orders."  
"Don't be absurd," Sherlock said, taking a bite of a pastry.  
"She's in shock for God's sake. And all some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it anyway?"  
"Safest place I know," Sherlock smiled at Mrs. Hudson.  
"He left it in the pocket of his second best dressing gown," she said, reaching down her shirt and pulling out the phone. "You clot." She handed Sherlock the phone and laughed a bit. "I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry."  
"Thank you," Sherlock said and pocketed the phone.  
"Shame on you, John Watson."  
"Shame on me?"  
"Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" Sherlock put a hand on her shoulder and tugged her slightly towards him. "England would fall." Mrs. Hudson laughed and John smiled a bit. Anna had a wide grin on her face. She loved it her. Despite all the danger living with John and Sherlock had brought, she felt safe.  
They made sure Mrs. Hudson got to bed alright before heading up to their flat. Anna had left to get herself ready for bed as well.  
"Where is it now?" John asked Sherlock.  
"Where no one will look," Sherlock said picking up his violin.  
"Whatever's on that phone is more than just pictures."  
"Yes it is."  
They were silent for a moment. Sherlock plucked at his violin.  
"So she's alive then." John finally said. "How are we feeling about that?"  
Off in the distance, the clock struck twelve.  
"Happy New Year John."  
"Do you think you'll be seeing her again?"  
Without answering, Sherlock picked up his bow and began playing. Anna joined them as he did and planted herself on the couch. She wrapped herself in her blanket and fell asleep to Sherlock's playing.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16  
Sherlock sat in the lab, bent over his work. Anna sat close by, glancing over every now and then to see what he was doing. He was inspecting an x-ray of the camera phone.  
Molly glanced over quickly, but did a double take.  
"Is that a phone?" She asked.  
"It's a camera phone."  
"And you're x-raying it?"  
"Yes I am."  
"Who's phone is it?"  
"A women's."  
"Your girlfriend?"  
Sherlock paused. "You think she's my girlfriend because I'm x-raying her possessions?"  
"Well, we all do silly things," Molly said laughing.  
"Yes," Sherlock said, his eyes filling with realization. "They do don't they? Very silly."  
Molly's eyebrows knit together in confusion as Sherlock jumped up from his chair to retrieve the phone.  
"She sent this to my address. She loves to play games." He said as he typed in 221B in the lock screen.  
"She does?" Molly asked as the phone reported it as still locked. Angrily, Sherlock shut off the phone and sat back down at the computer.  
"Molly, why don't we go to the cafeteria and leave Sherlock to his work?" Anna suggested. Molly nodded and they headed downstairs.  
They say across from each other, each with a mug of coffee.  
"Look at us." Anna muttered to the dark steamy liquid. "Out of all the men in the world, Sherlock is the one we choose to be infatuated with."  
"Sorry?" Molly cocked her head to the side.  
"Well don't act like its some big secret." Anna smiled. "We can all tell."  
Molly blushed. "You can?"  
"Well at least I can. Sherlock too. Or he would if he noticed things like that." Anna sighed and cupped her cheek in her hand.  
"Is there something wrong with us? Why him? And why is it only us?"  
Molly shook her head.  
"I don't know."  
They paused for a minute to drink their coffee.  
"Did you ever kiss my brother?" Anna bursted suddenly. Molly looked slightly taken aback.  
"Sorry, I shouldn't ask."  
"No, it's fine. I did, I suppose. Once or twice."  
Anna didn't respond. She just nodded and took another sip of coffee.  
The women continued to talk until Anna received a text from Sherlock, informing her he was ready to leave. She said goodbye to Molly and met him outside.

Sherlock stood in the hall of the flat. His eyebrows knit together as he sniffed the air.  
"What is it?" Anna asked.  
"Do you smell that?"  
She took in a deep breath. There was a slight hint of perfume that didn't belong to Anna.  
Sherlock quickly walked towards the window in the kitchen. It was open, and they never opened that window. He slowly walked down the hall towards his room as John came in with the dry cleaning.  
"We have a client," Sherlock said as John came down the hall. Anna followed curiously.  
"Where, in your bedroom?" John asked and stepped in. "Oh," he said, looking at the bed. Anna poked her head in and her eyes narrowed in annoyance.  
"Can't she just leave us alone?" She grumbled and walked away. Irene Adler lay asleep in Sherlock's bed. The boys woke her up and Sherlock gave her his dressing gown. They took her to the sitting room for questioning. Anna sat behind them on the sofa, drawing in her sketch pad.  
"So who's after you?" Sherlock asked.  
"People who want to kill me."  
"Who's that?"  
"Killers," she said matter-of-factly.  
"Would help if you were a tiny bit more specific." John added.  
"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them?" Sherlock asked.  
"It worked for a while."  
"Except you let John know you were alive. And therefore me."  
"I knew you'd keep my secret."  
"You couldn't."  
"But you did, didn't you. Wasn't so sure about her though," Irene said, referring to Anna. Anna looked up.  
"I'm not my brother."  
"That's not what I said."  
"That's what you were thinking." She huffed and looked back down at her art.  
"Where's my camera phone?" Irene asked.  
"It's not here. We're not stupid." John told her.  
"And what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it they'll be watching you."  
"If they'd been watching me they'd know that I took a safety deposit box at the bank in the strand a few months ago."  
"I need it," she said simply.  
"Oh we can't just go and get it, can we?" John asked. "Molly Hooper. She could collect it. Take an advance. One of your homeless networks could bring it here, leave it in the CAF and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up in the back." John said.  
"Very good John. Excellent plan." Sherlock smiled. "Full of intelligent precautions."  
"Thank you," John said as Sherlock reached in his pocket. "So why don't I have the phone."  
"So what do you keep on here in general, I mean?" Sherlock asked, turning the phone over in his hands. He wanted so badly to get into this phone. He wanted to beat this women, show her he was the best.  
"Pictures, information, anything I might find useful."  
"For blackmail?" John asked.  
"For protection," she corrected him. "I make my way in the world. I misbehave. I like to know people will be on my side exactly when I need them to be."  
"So how do you acquire this information?" Sherlock questioned.  
"I told you, I misbehave."  
"But you've acquired something that's more danger than protection. Do you know what it is?"  
"Yes. But I don't understand it."  
"I assumed. Show me."  
Irene held her hand out for the phone and Sherlock pulled it back.  
"Passcode." He said. Her hand remained extended, waiting. Reluctantly, Sherlock placed the phone in her hand. She took it and began typing in the lock code, tilting it away from Sherlock a bit so he couldn't see. When the phone refused her, she looked at it confused.  
"It's not working."  
"No it isn't. It's a replica I had made into which you've just entered the numbers 1058. I assumed you'd choose something more specific than that but thanks anyway," Sherlock said, excitedly retrieving the real phone from its hiding place and typing in the numbers. Irene looked smugly as the phone remained locked.  
"I told you that camera phone was my life." She said. "I know when it's in my hands."  
"Oh your rather good," he said, shifting himself towards her.  
"You're not so bad," she took the phone as the continued to stare at each other. John and Anna exchanged glances.  
"Hamish," John said, taking their attention. "John Hamish Watson, if you're looking for baby names."  
"There was a man," Irene continued, "An M.O.D. official. I knew what he liked. One of the things he liked was showing off." She unlocked her phone and pulled up a message. "He told me this email was going to save the world. He didn't know it but I photographed it. He was a bit tied up at the time." Irene handed the phone to Sherlock, showing him the picture.  
"Code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it though he was mostly upside down, as I recall."  
John look at her with disgust.  
"He couldn't figure it out. What can you do, Mr. Holmes? Go on. Impress a girl." Irene leaned down, preparing to kiss him on the cheek. As Sherlock looked at the screen, his world slowed down and his mind sped up. He organized all the letters and numbers and figured out what the code was before her lips even hit his cheek. She pulled back and he spewed out what it meant. Plane seating. On a jet. He told her exactly which plane on which day at which time. When he finished, she starred at him, stunned.  
"Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing. John expressed that thought in every possible way to the English language."  
"I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice," she purred.  
"John, please can you check those flight schedules to see if I'm right?" Sherlock asked, not breaking eye contact. Anna was glaring at Irene so hard her head started to hurt. John quickly looked up the flight schedules on his lap top.  
"I've never begged for mercy in my life," Sherlock assured her.  
"Twice."  
"Uh yeah you're right." John said. "Flight double oh seven."  
"What did you say?"  
"You're right."  
"No no no after that. What did you say after that?"  
"Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven."  
Sherlock began chanting "double oh seven" over and over again to himself. He started walking around, muttering to himself like a mad man. He didn't notice the text Irene started to send, but Anna did. She tried to catch a glimpse of the number but Irene caught on and tilted the screen just out of Anna's view. She glowered at the women before returning her attention to Sherlock. She liked watching him figure out the puzzles almost as much as she herself enjoyed to solve them.  
Hours later, John had left, leaving Sherlock in the hands of two women to utterly despised each other and both craved for his attention. Sherlock sat in his arm chair, thinking and plucking his violin. Anna sat at his feet with her sketch pad and Irene sat across from them.  
"Coventry." Sherlock said suddenly.  
"I've never been," Irene replied. "Is it nice?"  
"Where's John?" Sherlock asked as he pulled himself out from his mind palace and back into reality.  
"He went out, a couple hours ago," Irene explained.  
"I was just talking to him."  
"He said you do that."  
Anna was only half listening. She was in her own mind palace. Although, she wasn't solving crimes. She was conjuring up daydreams about the man sitting above her. Though she'd never admit it to anyone.  
"What's Coventry got to do with anything?" Irene asked curiously. Sherlock went one to explain the theory of the Coventry bombing in WW2.  
"Have you ever had anyone?" Irene asked. The question snapped Anna out of her day dreams. How insensitive was this women?  
"I'm sorry?"  
"When I say had I'm being indelicate."  
"I don't understand," Sherlock said, so innocently.  
"I'll be delicate then." Irene slipped off the chair and knelt in front of Sherlock, pushing Anna off to the side just a bit. She placed her hand on top of Sherlock's.  
"Lets have dinner." She said.  
"Why?"  
"You might be hungry."  
"I'm not."  
"Good."  
"Why would I want to have dinner if I wasn't hungry?" He said slowly, shifting his hand so to Anna, it appeared he was holding Irene's. Her heart dropped.  
"Mr. Holmes," Irene said, moving closer. So close, their lips were mere inches apart.  
"If it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner with me?"  
They were silent for a moment until Mrs. Hudson's voice rang out.  
"Sherlock?!"  
"Too late," Irene muttered.  
"That's not the end of the world, that's Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said bluntly. Irene got up from the floor and slipped back to the chair. Mrs. Hudson came in the room with a man.  
"Is the bell still not working?" She asked. "He shot it," she added to the man.  
"Have you come to take me away again?" Sherlock snapped.  
"Yes Mr. Holmes."  
"Well I decline."  
"I don't think you do," the man said, pulling an envelope from his jacket pocket and handing it to Sherlock. Inside was a plane ticket. As Sherlock stood to follow the man, Anna stood too.  
"Not you, Moriarty." The man said and quietly she sunk back down.  
As soon as Sherlock was gone, Irene headed towards the bathroom.  
"Where are you going?" Anna called after her.  
"To get ready. I have to go meet your boyfriend," she said smirking.  
"He's not my boyfriend," Anna grumbled.  
"But you wish he was."  
Anna didn't respond.  
"Ah," she smiled. "Well good luck with that, /Moriarty/." And with that, the bathroom door was shut leaving Anna alone with a few stray tears streaming down her face.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17  
Anna waited anxiously for Sherlock to get back. It was nearly midnight when she heard the building door open and footsteps coming up the stairs. She sunk lower into the sofa and tugged the blank she had around her up to her chin. There was more than just one pair of footsteps coming up the stairs, and by the weight given into each step, Anna concluded that two men and a women were coming up to the flat. Sherlock and Irene obviously, but who was the second male?  
The flat door opened and in stepped Sherlock with Irene and Mycroft trailing behind. Anna sat up.  
"What's going on?" She asked.  
"Miss Adler has been causing a bit if trouble," Mycroft said stiffly.  
"Well I could've guessed that," Anna muttered, sinking back down into the cushions. Sherlock sat in his arm chair while Irene and Mycroft sat at the table, arguing.  
"We have people who can get into this," Mycroft told her, gesturing to the phone.  
"I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months. Sherlock dear tell him what you found when you x-raid my camera phone."  
"There are four additional united wired inside the casting. I suspect containing acid or a small amount of explosives. Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive." Sherlock said.  
"Explosive. It's more me," Irene said, smirking at Mycroft.  
"Some data is always recoverable."  
"Take that risk," she dared him.  
"You have a pass code to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can extract it from you."  
Anna raised her eyebrows. Surely they wouldn't torture her.  
"Sherlock," Irene cued him to explain.  
"There will be two pass codes. One to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even under duress you can't know which one shes given you and there would be no point in a second attempt."  
"He's good isn't he?" Irene purred. "I should have him on a leash. In fact I might."  
"Oh shut up Irene," Anna muttered. Irene shot her a dark look.  
"We destroy this, then. No one has the information." Mycroft suggested.  
"Fine, good idea." Irene said nodding.  
"Unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information you're about to burn."  
"Are there?" Mycroft challenged.  
"Telling you would be playing fair. I'm not playing anymore." Irene reached into her hand back and pulled out a white envelope.  
"A list of my requests. And ideas for my protection." She pushed the envelope across the table to Mycroft, who looked at it with an expression of distress.  
"I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of a Nation, but then I'd be lying. I'd imagine you'd like to sleep on it."  
"Thank you, yes," Mycroft said, his eyes skimming the page.  
"Too bad."  
Mycroft sighed and leaned back in his chair.  
"You've been very thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you."  
"I can't take all the credit," Irene said, giving Anna a side glance. "I had a bit of help. Jim Moriarty sends his love." Anna's hands clenched and Sherlock perked up a bit, listening more intently now.  
"Yes, he's been in touch." Mycroft said. "He seems desperate for my attention, which I'm sure can be arranged."  
"You didn't tell me he'd contacted you," Anna muttered.  
"Why should I have?"  
Anna pressed her lips together in a thin line as her eyes narrowed at Mycroft.  
"No reason, I suppose." She was beginning to lose her temper with this man. "What was my brother doing for you?" Anna asked Irene.  
"I had all this stuff and never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consulting criminal." She stood from her chair and perched herself on the edge of the table, looking down at Mycroft. "He gave me a lot of advice on how to play the Holmes boys," she smirked. "Do you know what he calls you? The Ice Man," she whispered to Mycroft. "And The Virgin," she turned to Sherlock. "He didn't even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man."  
Sherlock closed his eyes, his head spinning. He almost had it. It was just in his reach.  
"Now here you are, the dominatrix who brought the nation to its knees," Mycroft stood and nodded to Irene. "Nicely played."  
"No." Sherlock said. He had it.  
"Sorry?"  
"I said no. Very very close but no," Sherlock stood from his arm chair. Anna smirked as panic filled Irene's eyes, but as Sherlock spoke, her smirk faded.  
"You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too much."  
"No such thing as too much," Irene said, hoping she could drive Sherlock away from discovering her.  
"Oh enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Creating the distraction of the game I sympathize entirely, but sentiment. Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."  
"Sentiment? What are you talking about?" Irene laughed.  
"You," Sherlock said plainly.  
"Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you." Despite her words, Irene's voice shook. "Why? Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes? The clever man in the funny hat?"  
"No," he said, leaning in closely. He took her wrist and pressed his lips against her ear. "Because I took your pulse," he whispered, and pulled back. "Elevated. Your pupils dilated." He reached around her and took the camera phone from the table. "I imagine John Watson thinks love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and very destructive. The first time we met, you told me a disguise is a self portrait. How true of you. The combination to your safe was you measurements but this, this is far more intimate. This is your heart, and you should never let it rule your head." As he spoke, he typed into the lock screen of the phone, glaring cooly at Irene who had a look of defeat on her face. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you worked for. You just couldn't resist could you? I always assumed love was a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof." His finger raised to enter the last number, but Irene mover her hand to stop him.  
"I was just playing the game," she whispered.  
"And this is just loosing." Sherlock hit the button and held up the phone for her to see.  
I AM  
SHER  
LOCKED  
It read. Almost in unison, a tear ran down both women's cheek. Anna realized that Sherlock would never love her, and she had to get out of here fast.  
Sherlock handed the phone to his brother, who began scrolling through.  
"If you're feeling kind, lock her up. Otherwise let her go. I doubt she last long now without her protection." Sherlock said, heading towards the door.  
"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene asked, shocked at what had just happened.  
"Yes."  
"Please," she whispered. "You're right. I won't even last six months."  
"Sorry about dinner," Sherlock said cooly, and turned to leave with out another word. Leaving Anna and Mycroft to deal with Irene.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18  
It had been months since they had heard anything from Miss Adler. Anna had gotten a job at a retail store and was working on saving enough money to buy her own flat. She couldn't live at 221B for much longer. Her heart had been broken and she didn't see any point in staying. Of course, she hadn't let the boys know quite yet. She's tell them once she knew she could afford to move out. Sherlock was working on minor cases here and there. Mostly things Lestrade would bring to him that he'd solve within a few hours.  
John and received a call at work from Mycroft one day, requesting he meet him immediately at the cafe just by the flat. John left the surgery earlier, with permission from Sara, and headed out to the cafe.  
Mycroft and John sat across from each other at a booth in the back. Mycroft slid a transparent package towards John, containing a few papers, envelopes, and a camera phone.  
"It's the file on Irene Adler?" John asked, taking a sip of coffee.  
"Closed forever." Mycroft confirmed. "I am about to go inform my brother, or if you prefer, you are, that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new identity. She will survive and thrive. But he will never see her again."  
"Why would he care? He hated her in the end. Won't even mention her by name, just 'The Women'," John sipped at his coffee again.  
"Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind, the one women who matters."  
"He's not like that," John shook his head. "He doesn't feel that way, I don't think."  
"My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a detective. What might we deduce about his heart?" Mycroft said. John shrugged.  
"I don't know."  
"Neither do I. But initially he wanted to be a pirate." Mycroft pressed his lips together in a sort of smile.  
"He'll be ok with this witness protection and never seeing her again. He'll be fine," John assured.  
"I agree. That's why I decided to tell him that."  
"Instead of what?"  
"She's dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and beheaded."  
"It's definitely her?" John asked, after a moment of silence. "She's done this before."  
"I was thorough, this time." Mycroft told him. "It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me. And I don't think he was on hand, do you?"  
John didn't reply.  
"So, what should we tell Sherlock?"  
The men decided that it was best to tell him the truth, that he'd figure it out himself eventually, so why lie? But back at the flat, John couldn't bring himself to do it. He told Sherlock she was in America, and he seemed find with it all, but as John turned to leave, Sherlock asked him for the camera phone in the package that John was holding.  
"I've got to give this back to Mycroft you can't keep it," John told him.  
"I know but, I'll still have it." Sherlock stretched out his hand with his palm up, waiting for John to put the phone in it.  
"Sherlock I have to give this to Mycroft. It's the governments now."  
"Please."  
John hesitated. Sherlock himself said that he never begs for mercy, and here he was, pleading for a phone. John decided it best to give it to him.  
"Thank you," Sherlock muttered as his fingers curled around the cool metal John had placed in his hand.  
"I better take this back," John gestured to the files in his hand.  
"Yes," Sherlock said. He'd returned to his microscope and was no longer interested in conversation. John turned to leave, but then turned back to Sherlock.  
"Did she ever text you again? Irene Adler?"  
"Once."  
"And what did she say?"  
Sherlock looked up from his microscope.  
"Goodbye, Mr. Holmes."  
By the look on his face, John could tell that he didn't believe that Irene was in America. But he'd probably figured it out himself.  
Anna followed John out of the flat, demanding he tell her the truth. He told her about the terrorist cell and of Irene's death. Anna nodded and turned to walk down the street, not even bothering to acknowledge Mycroft, who was waiting outside the flat.  
"Where are you going?" John called after her.  
"To meet with some mates from work. I'll be home late." She called back and trudged off with her hands in her pockets.  
Anna stayed out a lot later than she planned. It had been too long since she'd had a real girls night and a chance to unwind. Her friends had given her boy advice and as she walked home, she decided the next time she saw Sherlock, she'd tell him straight up how she felt. The way he'd been acting these past few months after the whole scandal made her think that maybe, just maybe, there was something there.  
Her head was down as she walked, and she bumped into someone just in front of the flat.  
"Oh sorry," she mumbled, but when she looked up she was greeted with those blue-grey eyes.  
"Hello Anna," Sherlock said turning to open the door.  
"S-Sherlock," she stuttered, remembering her promise to herself but she just could seem to get the words out. Sherlock turned to face her, waiting for her to continue. Anna acted without thinking and reached up, grabbing the collar of his coat and pushed her lips onto his. After a moment, they softened. She waited for him to kiss back and started to pull back when he didn't. She was embarrassed and disappointed. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he didn't have feelings for her after all. But Sherlock surprised her by slipping his hand behind her head, just at the nape of her neck, and pulled her back into the kiss. It wasn't passionate, it was tender. It was sweet. It was innocent. It was Sherlock's first kiss.  
They stood together for a moment before Anna pulled slowly away. Her eyes fluttered open and Sherlock stared into her dark eyes, swimming with secrets and stories of the past. Stories he wanted so badly to unlock. Anna smiled crookedly at him before passing him and walking into the flat. He watched her as he walked, taking everything in. He watched the way her hands swung slightly by her side, the length of her stride, the way her heels clicked, the way her skirt swished when her hips moved. He memorized everything before following her.  
Anna opened the door to the flat and walked in with a look of accomplishment on her face. Sherlock followed, blushing. John smiled slightly at both of them.  
"Where have you two been?" He asked.  
"Just outside." Anna said grinning. "Well, I think I'll go get ready for bed." She turned and walked through the kitchen. The way she moved made it look like she was doing some sort of waltz with an invisible partner. The invisible partner twirled her before she disappeared into Sherlock's room, closing the door behind her.  
"So, why are you blushing?" John smirked at Sherlock.  
"I'm not blushing." Sherlock said as his face turned a deeper shade of pink. John laughed.  
"Yes you are. What happened?"  
"Nothing."  
"Fine. I'll ask Anna when she comes back out."  
"No. No...I.." Sherlock stuttered. He sighed. "I kissed her." John raised his eye brows.  
"You did?"  
"Well, she kissed me first."  
"And how was it?"  
"I don't know, how is it supposed to be?" Sherlock asked. He'd never been kissed before and didn't know if he had done it right.  
"Well," John said after thinking for a bit. "If it's with someone you really love, then for that moment, no one exists but you two. No one else matters. You want to be with her forever. You want the kiss to last forever, because it's perfect. You want to protect her, lock her away and hide her so the world can never hurt her."  
Sherlock thought about this for a minute.  
"John?"  
"Yes, Sherlock?"  
"I think I love Anna Moriarty."


End file.
